Cool Heat
by Tanas Bartowski
Summary: Kate Beckett reads the advanced copy of Richard Castles new Nikki Heat book.  In it, Detective Heat and her team, including the ruggedly handsome reporter Jameson Rook, solve multiple murders during a harsh winter storm. Chapter 13 is now up.
1. Prologue Kates Book

Disclaimer-I do not own the show Castle, its characters or any locals mentioned on the show. Cool Heat is my own creation based off the characters from the show Castle and the books Heat Wave, and Naked Heat.

A/N- I also want to thank Morethanamuse-MTAM for being my Beta on this story. Thank you!

This is going to be a long one folks, but they updates will take what feels like forever, I am in the middle of reading the Nikki Heat books, so I need to finish them before I get too far into the story. So please bear with me, and let me know what you think of the Prologue.

Cool Heat

By Tanas Bartowski

Prologue

Kate's Book

This copy was Kate Beckett's, and only hers, he intended for it to be that way. When Richard Castle handed her the advanced copy of his new book, 'Cool Heat' before a single soul of the general public she was thrilled, as she always was. After all she was one of his biggest fans, even though she unsuccessfully tried to hide it from the author. The fact that she was his inspiration flattered her beyond measure of human existence. That was something that she could never show him, even if she wished to. After all it came to writing, he was the Lion and she was the Lamb; he would devour her, consume her.

In fact, he already did consume her. When she read Nikki Heat, there was no doubt that this woman _was_ her, at least in the eyes of Richard Castle: Novelist extraordinaire. Kate always thought it was strange however; Nikki was more like a novelized version of a daughter, a daughter born between herself and Castle. The very concept of having a child with that man made her chuckle to herself. _Thank you, Agent Shaw for putting such an idea in my head, in the first place_. The longer she worked with him the more he surprised her, astonished her. He was a fool yes, but what a fool! A lie would always escape her lips if anyone asked her if Jameson Rook, the Celebrity reporter, and Detective Nikki Heat were anything like herself and the novelist who penned it. Her mind however betrayed her as she often thought about the scenes together where Heat and Rook gave in to their passions.

She peeled back the cover, eyeing the dedication, _To my Continuous Insperation_, his dedication was shorter than usual, but it was always nice to see him thank her for having to deal with him being such a nuisance on a daily basis. This book was grander than the last; longer at least. It would take her several days to read it from cover to cover, but she didn't care, this was her book and no one would stop her from savoring every last page of juicy material. Her fingers graced the pages, taking great care to turn each page, to make sure she didn't miss a single word.

Finally she reached the first chapter.


	2. Frost on Flaxen Locks

**Disclaimer-I do not own the show Castle, nor do I ghost write the Nikki Heat books (obviously).**

**I also wish to thank Morethanamuse for her Beta of this story.  
**

**Cool Heat**

By: Tanas Bartowski

Frost on Flaxen Locks

Nikki Heat exited her car near the entrance to a dark alleyway. The wind tore through her, sending chills running up and down her spine. Despite her surname, Detective Heat felt like a popsicle. At the very moment, it was if she couldn't remember ever being warm at all. She was chilled to her core; -she hated being cold and, -hated the wind. -The annoying way her teeth chattered uncontrollably in the cold air, made her want to swear in a fit of anger. She bit her cheek to contain herself, and it helped a little. New York hadn't seen snow yet this year and she was rather thankful for that, though the weather had been extremely chilly the last few months. Given the icy wind, it seemed to her that snow was finally on its way, in the form of a mid-winter blizzard.

She headed toward another murder; another crime against the human condition. Dispatch had made her aware of the body found in a back alley near 78th and West End. It was late at night, or really early morning; 12:23 AM if the digital readout on her phone was correct. It didn't surprise her that people were still restless. She thought she should be used to murder by now, however people still managed to surprise her and preform deplorable acts against one another. After all of the cop training that she had been though, along with the personal tragedy that led her to become a detective in the first place, none of it ever seemed to do her any good around a murdered body. It just managed to fuel her fire more in order to catch whoever was responsible for such a violent act.

This was no exception. Several flashlights danced in the darkness, owned by the beat cops that already arrived on the scene. The crime occurred behind a convenience store. A lone street light lit her way, its bulb growing ever dimmer in the brisk evening air. As she approached she flashed her badge to a uniform controlling the blockade. It was procedure. He, of course, knew who she was, as did all of the officers in New York. They were all jealous of her fame and she knew it. It wasn't her fault; it was that damn article. The limelight didn't suit her, she would have much rather got the job done and gone home, no one the wiser to her personal affairs. This was only a dream she had. She wondered when people would forget about it, it had been a year already. There was only one man to blame for this, the fool who had stolen her heart, twice.

His name was Jameson Rook, writer for _First Press Celebrity Magazine._

He had done an article on her, though it was supposed to be a puff piece on all of the officers in the many different precincts around the city. The Mayor thought it would be a good idea to give the police force some good publicity. Heat hated the Mayor now, as Rook had grown infatuated with her, and the article changed. Rook followed Nikki around for weeks like a lost puppy. The only problem was, puppies weren't unnerving, and he _definitely _was. She had to admit that he had his uses during a couple of particularly difficult cases that he was a part of. There was an air about him that drove her crazy and not always in a bad way, since sex with Rook was some of the best she had ever experienced. However, his flippant and sometimes childish personality usually got in the way of anything more serious between them.

She arrived at the yellow police tape and ducked under it. CSU was already on scene, scrutinizing the whole area around the body, their flashlights also shining brightly in the night. The victim was a woman, maybe in her early thirties. The victim was wearing a pure white sundress, which contradicted the black Ford F-150 pickup that she lay in the bed of, hanging halfway off. It had no plates that she could see, and she would venture a guess that the VIN number was scratched off but she would have to wait for CSU to determine that.

Nikki looked around and saw a man approach whom she easily recognized. He was the Medical Examiner on scene, Tim Young. An older man, Tim taught her friend Lauren everything that she knew about being an ME. To most Detectives he was rather gruff, though he had a soft spot for Heat. It may have been because Lauren talked about her, so it felt like he knew her. Otherwise he, like so many other men in her life, had a crush on her. She heard her name as he neared.

She curled her lips into a smile as he neared. "Hey Tim, What do you have for me?"

Tim looked grim, "White female, blonde, pretty, at least when she was alive. She's in her late-twenties or early-thirties. Only thing else I can tell you for sure is that there is no obvious signs of death. She does have bruising on her wrists and ankles, but they appear to be from before she died.

"She had been tied up prior to being killed." She said, matter-of-factly, but really hoping that he would prove her wrong.

"Exactly," his voice spoke in a somber tone. "Oh and she isn't wearing underwear, which probably means-"

"She was raped," Nikki interrupted again, she hoped he would contradict her.

"Or at the very least had sex just before she died," the ME continued. "I won't know for sure until I get her back to my table. I'll be sure to run a SART kit as soon as I can." Tim turned and headed back to the body.

"Before you do," Nikki made him stop in his tracks. "Can you give me time of death?"

He turned to her again. "TOD was just a couple hours ago," Tim lifted his right arm and checked his watch, "Maybe around eight or nine. I can probably narrow that down for you after the autopsy. Oh and unless you guys find a purse or ID, we have ourselves a Jane Doe."

Nikki nodded at him and he left her. She spotted Detectives Raley and Ochoa or Roach, as she affectionately called the pair, arrived on the scene.

Ochoa was in his early-forties, Cuban, and divorced. He and Nikki shard many stories across a bar table. Lauren and Ochoa were currently in a relationship, although they were trying to keep it discreet. Ochoa's partner didn't even know. Detective Raley was younger, the rookie in her squad. In his early-thirties, Irish decent, and as far as she knew, he was single.

"What do we got?" Ochoa asked.

"Female, late-twenties or early-thirties," the lead Detective replied.

"COD or TOD, yet?" Raley requested.

"Undetermined, and sometime in the last couple of hours, we should know more after the ME preforms the autopsy." Nikki spotted a man talking with an officer. He had to be the one that found her.

Heat motioned to her team to follow, and the trio made their way toward the man next to the officer. He was older, moderately well dressed and had a cigarette butt hanging from his mouth. He had on a long trench coat and had flipped the collar up to escape the chilling wind. The man almost reminded her of those old detective movies from the fifties that she had watched with her dad growing up. He had to be the owner of the convenience store.

"Hello sir, I'm Detective Heat." She gave him a quick second to see if he would recognize the name, he didn't. "You our witness?"

The man took a puff, "I am," his voice raspy from years of smoking. "I found her after I locked up shop a bit after eleven. I turned to leave and saw the truck parked out back here. Found her just as you see her." He blew smoke up into the night air.

"You hear anything before you closed shop?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Did you happen to see when the truck pulled up?"

"No ma'am I didn't. I last went out for a smoke around eight though. I wasn't back here again until after eleven."

"You seem to be rather calm about this," Heat said suspiciously.

The shop owner help up his cigarette but to eye level, "Helps with nerves," he said simply throwing the butt to the cement below. "You should have seen me when I first saw her, hell you want evidence of it, just look to the left of my shops back door, I'm sure I left plenty for your CSI guys to look at. It was my first body."

Heat crinkled her nose and shot her head back. "That will be all for now, sir." Heat and Roach left the man with officer, and walked over to the body.

"We know who she is?" Ochoa asked, eyeing the victim as the ME and his assistant lifted her body onto a gurney.

"Not unless we find some kind of ID around here. Help CSU look around here, and I will check around the entrance to the alley."

"Got it," Raley and Ochoa relied almost simultaneously, making her smirk.

Nikki Heat went to work, peeling off her gloves, and exposing her fingers to the harsh elements. They seemed to shriek at her, writhing in agony. She covered them again as quickly as they would allow her. The rubber gloves the detectives were given were supposedly the same as those given to CSU and the ME's. The seasoned detective didn't believe that for a moment, as she always managed to tear them easily and not once did her friend Lauren Parry ever break a glove. Maybe it was just experience, but considering the mood she was in, it had to be the gloves. As she snapped them on her, she got right down to it.

Alone with a trusty flashlight and her piece, Nikki began to scour the outside edges of the street surrounding the alleyway. The street itself was nearly as dismal as it had been where she had just come. It felt colder to her, too. The victim took precedence over her comfort, so she gritted her teeth and braved the elements in hopes of finding a key to the mystery that was Jane Doe. The detective crossed the unusually quiet street, and began to survey the edges of the gutter in the alleyway across from the murder scene. A small reflection of light made her retrace her last step. A metallic button was what she had seen. Something far larger was attached to the button. It was a bag.

The bag was either tossed out of the truck by murderer before he dropped off the body, which seemed unlikely to her. Or the victim dropped it, in a last ditch effort to locate her, sadly they found her too late. She opened it and found the victim's wallet and her ID as it must have always been. Gillian Baker was her name, and she was twenty-nine and lived in Chelsea. This was a good start, if you considered the alternative. She had to bring this bag back to CSU for processing.

A loud clamor from behind her caused her to jump and the years of training told her to retrieve her gun from its holster.

An all too familiar voice came from behind her. "Nikki? Is that you?"

She turned around, gun still in hand. The face looking back was obvious to her, even in the darkness. She lowered her gun, "Jameson Rook," she said, in the strongest voice she could manage.

The first snowflake of the season fell between them.

**Author's note- If anyone has a favorite scene or line from season 3 of Castle please let me know by PMing me**


	3. Writer's Ice Block

**Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or am I the ghost writer of the Nikki Heat Novels.-sadly.**

**A special thank you to Morethanamuse for Betaing this story.**

**Cool Heat**

By: Tanas Bartowski

Writer's Ice Block

Detective Heat stood on the sidewalk and faced the man she once knew. Several additional flakes fell before words were shared between the former lovers. It had been four months since she last laid eyes on the man called Jameson Rook and those four months were more than enjoyable to her. There were no longer any outlandish claims of CIA conspiracies conveyed to her ears, no trouble-making journalist getting attacked and held at gunpoint by the slayer of men. Those months were quiet, enjoyable, where she could be the detective that she had been before he had come to control her life.

Heat holstered her sidearm. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, finally breaking the silent tension between them.

"I was taking a stroll in the brisk air, is that a crime?" his words slurred.

Detective Heat rolled her eyes. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"I had a few alcohol inspired delights. What about it?"

Rook's words were more unrecognizable with each passing syllable. She recognized it now, he was obviously smashed. His feet scampered about trying to match directions his brain was giving him.

"Is that what they call whisky these days? I can smell it on you from here."

Rook grunted.

"That clamoring I heard, that was you getting tossed out, wasn't it?"

Rook stammered. "I can't be too sure…about that. Maybe I…just fell down."

"You okay?" Nikki asked, trying not to let too much concern escape her lips.

"I've been dealing with blockage. The celebs that I do hang out with…I have no interest to write about, it's starting to scare me, especially now. I've had it for months." Rook nearly heaved after the last word he spoke, swallowing hard after.

"Oh…" She was interested, though she didn't dare show him how interested she truly was, for fear of a snide response. She remembered him always having celebrities in his little book, dying for him to join them in their trips through Africa and hiking in the Alps. He always had some celebrity to stalk, including her. 'First Press' just published an article a few months ago from him on Taylor Swift and her charity work she had started. She had not seen anything from him since that though.

He wrote almost constantly while they were together, escaping the confines of his computer to spend time with her. He had to keep in shape somehow. He was fun to be with, once he stopped following her around during cases. There were a few occasions that she would share a difficult case with him to get his opinion. Rook had his quirky qualities, such as his childishness, which she could manage. The jealousy, on the other hand, it was something completely different.

He would wonder constantly if she was with Don or with Petar or any of her former boyfriends when she was out late, and not once did she contact them. It was usually a case that got her in late, or late night drinks between the rest of the team or Lauren. That was the major reason she didn't think it would work between them; he was always transforming into a green-eyed monster.

"So what're ya doing out her, Heat?" He lurched himself nearer to her, barely maintaining his balance.

This act puller her from her cloud. "Lousy English from a writer, Rook," Heat said taking a heavy breath. "That's really. I will give you three guesses why I'm here in the middle of the night."

"Murder," Rook's voice was clearer that it had been before. "Can I see it?"

Nikki was taken aback, a twinge of annoyance rising form her voice as she spoke. "No!"

"Puuulllleeeeaaassse," he whined, as if he were a child asking for a toy he couldn't have.

"You can't see the body, Jameson." Her voice rose in a rage she had not felt in months. "It's an active investigation. You can't be a part of it."

"Whoa, first name, you haven't pulled that out in forever. You know, I can press speed dial and get the 'big cheese' on the line. Maybe tell him I want to do a second part to my 'Heat Wave' story last year."

"After midnight, go ahead. He will be annoyed enough for you waking him, to banish you from my crime scenes for good."

"What is it?" Rook stumble trying to find his wrist watch. "It's only one in the morning. He'll be up. That man stays up longer than you would think." Rook casually pulled out his iPhone out of his pocket. He blinked twice and strained his eyes to see the screen clearly. He hit a button and held it up to his ear. "Hey boss man, its Jamie…I was thinking about doing a follow up Nikki Heat story. Just need to…"

_This is dong to be just like the last time_, the disconcerting though popped in her head. She didn't want Rook anywhere near this case not this time, not again. It seemed like it was already too late, but he was at it again, dragging himself into her life and pulling the strings of those above her, just so he could have a piece of her. She felt like a cut of meat.

Fine," she huffed. "Let's go."

Nikki had lost this round, but the battle was only beginning and she knew that she would still gain the upper hand. Even so, no matter how she tried to escape it, she would be stuck with writer-boy again.

"Thank god. I thought you would never ask." He placed the iPhone back in his pocket, not even saying goodbye to the Mayor. He had been faking it, she just couldn't prove it.

Rook squealed with girlish glee. Heat had to remind him that she was armed.

"So you're not as smashed as you appear, are you?" Nikki hoped she could call him out on something, not daring to challenge him on his bogus call to the Mayor.

"I am a bit, but I just left the back of the bar, because I own it. I hang out there on my slow days, which have been more frequent as of late. I just went to leave, I stumbled over a poorly placed trash can and there you were. What are the chances?"

"Yeah, what are the chances?" Annoyance rose from her voice.

"Hey guys!" Detective Heat shouted at Roach as she walked back in their direction. Jameson Rook followed closely behind. The idiotic remarks about Rook that Roach usually uttered stiffed in her mind and she dreaded what was to come. "Gillian Baker is the name of our victim. She lives in Chelsea."

"Yo, Rook, where did you come from?" Raley asked, seeming more interested in him that the advancement of the case.

Heat interjected. "Why don't we save the reconnection of your bro-mance for the morning?"

Raley shot her an icy stare, to which she returned twofold.

"I say we let CSU finish up their sweep and have the ME's office preform the autopsy, we should reconvene early tomorrow morning in the bullpen." Nikki hoped that to be the end of it and they would go their separate ways for the evening, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"What happened to her?" Rook asked Ochoa.

"Undetermined, but she was tied up before she died, or so it seemed."

"We have any suspects yet?"

"No 'we' don't have any suspects yet, as I said earlier, we need to wait till morning," Nikki once again interrupted. She turned to leave the scene, hoping that others would follow her lead. Rook took the bait.

"Hey where are you going? I have more questions."

It was obvious to her, drunk or not, this case stirred the writer in him awake again and as much as it pained her to deny him that, she was tired, cold, and knew that they had nothing more to learn tonight. "You okay to drive home?" The detective tried to hide the unease in her voice.

"Probably not, want to take me home with you?" He flashed her that charming smile that was unmistakably a trademark of his.

"No, I don't want you to give me more to worry about, like those wandering hands of yours. I'm sure they're on their worst behavior due to the dose of Scotch you allowed them."

He shrugged as if to say. _Your loss_. "No worries, I didn't take my car. I took a cab here and plan to do the same on the way back," he said, hiding his disappointment.

"Good. See you in the morning?" She tried not to let slip her hope that he would be too far gone to remember the events of tonight and leave her in peace. Of course she was asking too much of him.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

The blizzard that Detective Heat had anticipated had arrived by the time the first rays of cloud masked sun hit the city. The snow fall had intensified to four inches ground cover in most of Manhattan. The wind made it impossible to tell how much had truly fallen because nearly half of the fallen snow seemed to be pulled back into the air and swirled in a cyclone across the island. The good Detective missed it all however, because do to going home to change right after departing the crime scene, she ended up at the precinct when there was still only a dusting on the ground.

Detective Heat worked through the night, and discovered many things about Gillian Baker. She lived and worked in Chelsea, and Heat found out that she was a grade school teacher at Public School 11. The victim didn't have any family in New York City area, and lived alone. She also was, by all accounts, single. The Principal, whom she contacted as soon as she could, declared her missing only 12 hours before they found her body. He started that she had not been to work for two days before that, and for her that was beyond strange.

She already requested the Principal fax them over credentials of all the teachers and staff at the school, and to contact her if anyone there remembered Gillian saying anything relating to the case. Nikki doubted he would. She would probably end up having to canvass the school herself, or send Roach to do it.

Roach strolled in together at a quarter past seven. They mutually wondered if she had even slept at all the night before, or if Rook, or the case, had kept her up. They knew her so well, that if either scenario was true, it wouldn't have surprised them one bit.

"Morning," Heat greeted them in a droll tone, not bothering to look their way when she spoke. Her focus was fully directed on writing the information she had just gathered about Ms. Baker's case.

Raley and Ochoa were preparing their desks for their next case when Heat finally gave them a glance. "While I'm waiting for the ME's office to call me down to see what they had discovered, I want you guys to check out her apartment, maybe there will be a clue to what happened to her there." She handed Ochoa a copy of Baker's information as well as the credentials of all of staff at Public School 11. "This is just in case we need to investigate the staff from her school, take it with you and I'll call if I need you to look in to it."

"On it," Roach replied in unison.

"It's so cute when you guys do that." Heat felt her lips pull into a smile.

Raley smirked and looked at his partner, who was wearing a scowl. Before Raley could see it, Ochoa quickly matched his partner's expression and they exited the squad room.

Nikki once more engrossed herself in her paperwork and the murder board, hoping to find anything out of place, anyone that stood out to her. She jumped out of her seat when her phone rang.

She scrambled to pick it up. "Detective Heat," she answered.

"Nik, its Lauren, we have the preliminary autopsy complete. Come down when you get a chance, I have a few things to show you."

"Be right down." Heat hung up and grabbed her coat and headed for the elevator.

The doors to the elevator opened exactly the moment she arrived and she smiled, believing it to be her lucky day. Sometimes, it was the little things. Her smile dropped quickly, however, at the sight of who was occupying it. Jameson Rook wore his smug smile, as if he had just won the lottery. In his own way, he had; He got to spend more time with her.

"No time, we need to go to the ME's office," Heat said in a rush, pressing the lobby button on the elevator.

"I wanted to at least say 'hi' to Roach," Rook whined.

"Too bad, they are already gone. You're out of luck writer-boy," her voice hit a somber note when she noticed his face was incredibly scruffy and his eyes were weighed down by heavy bags, neither of which she noticed in the shadows of last night. He looked like a mess. "You get any sleep last night?"

"I could ask you the same question. You seem a bit tired yourself."

"Just drop it," she scowled.

"Fine by me," Rook huffed, not truly wanting to let it go. "So, the ME's office, does that mean Lauren?"

Heat sighed, "Yeah." The elevator doors opened and Heat took the opportunity to depart from the close quarters with Rook as quickly as she could.

* * *

Though she tried to make the car ride as quiet as possible, Rook insisted on asking questions and shooting theories into the sky that wouldn't last five seconds in a courtroom or anywhere else, beside the mind of a writer. He voiced everything from alien abduction to a much more believable but still as unlikely CIA hit. _What was it with him and the CIA?_ she thought. When the car entered the parking lot adjacent to the ME's office, he was still spit-balling theories, but she had stopped listening.

Lauren greeted them as they entered her lab. She gave special notice to Rook, which Nikki had failed to mention to her yet.

"What have you got for me, Lauren?"

Lauren began. "When there was no visible cause of death I scoured the body to see any possible marking on the body, starting with the limbs."

"Find anything?" Heat questioned.

"Other than confirming that she was tied up and gaged for several hours prior to her death, no. That is until I spotted this." Lauren brought over a magnifying glass to the right side of the victims neck. A puncture mark was clearly visible on the side of her neck. "A needle was stuck into her neck."

"She was poisoned?" Rook took a shot.

"Not as far as I can tell, whatever she was injected with stopped her heart, and whatever it was hit her fast because they stuck her in the jugular vein. I can tell you more in a couple of days when I get the results back from forensics.

"Anything else you can tell me?" Heat asked.

"I did SART kit on the victim. She wasn't raped."

"She wasn't?" Rook asked, looking confused.

"When we found her she wasn't wearing any underwear," Lauren replied, turning towards Rook to answer his question. She continued, directing her words back to both of them. "It must have been part of the killer's twisted ritual when she was killed. I gave the sundress to forensics for processing; I doubt we will find anything, but you know as well I do that even so, we may get lucky."

"Thanks Lauren." Nikki and Rook turned to leave, Lauren stopped them.

"So are you two back together?"

"No," Heat said sternly

"Not yet," Rook reacted at nearly the same time as Heat.

Lauren made a very astute cough and went back to the body of Gillian Baker, allowing the two of them to bicker about their situation as they left.

**Please Review below to tell me what you think of the story so far, criticism welcome**.


	4. Pen Pals and the Science Guy

**Disclaimer-I don't own Castle or any characters related to the show.**

Pen Pals and Science Guys

Needless to say, with the descending weather, the streets were hazardous, and the trip took nearly twice as long as it should have. The Roach Coach passed by many immovable vehicles and accidents due to slick roads on the way to the Baker woman's apartment. Raley stole a quick glance at Ochoa, and had noticed that his partner was wearing a sour look that day. He had just the story to perk him up.

"So I was watching Late-night one night. Hugh Jackman was on and discussing the story of his Broadway career. During a certain show, a certain scene had him kiss a man. An X-men movie fan or at the very least a wolverine fan was in the audience. When he went to kiss the man, he heard in the back of audience, a long slow groan 'Wolverine…no!' Poor Jackman couldn't keep a straight face."

The senior partner let out a small chuckle. "That is the stupidest story I have ever heard."

"Maybe, but I gut you to laugh and smile, didn't I. I use that when I'm feeling blue and it perks me right up."

Ochoa sighed, wishing his partner would drop it. "We're here, let's go."

They pulled up to an apartment building, taking care not to slip on the icy sidewalk that had yet to be salted. Detectives Raley and Ochoa made their first priority to look for the super of the building. His door was on the first floor, it was opened a crack, showing he was in. Ochoa swung the door open and an overweight man, nursing a fifth of Jack and trying to keep himself warm, was sitting at a desk.

"Sir," the super shot up at the sound of his voice. "I am Detective Ochoa, and this is my partner, Detective Raley. We are investigating a murder of a woman who lived in this building, Gillian Baker." Roach flashed their badges and ID's at him.

"Ms. Baker was murdered? When? How?"

"It's an ongoing investigation," Ochoa replied, hoping the super would catch the hint and drop the questions.

"We need you to unlock her apartment for us. There may be something in there that could be of help to us," Raley finished for his partner.

The super complied hesitantly, walking them up to the fifth floor where the victim's apartment was located. The latch clicked open and Ochoa thanked the super for his cooperation.

"Before you go in you should know that she has a few cats," The super warned.

"Cats? Psssh. We'll be fine, I'm sure." Ochoa scoffed.

The super rolled his eyes at Ochoa's cocky tone. "Suit yourselves but I warned you." He turned to leave as the door cracked open.

They each thanked the super and after he left they entered quickly, only to be attacked by a handful of tabbies, begging for affection and food.

"A few cats? More like a heard! And I'm allergic!" Raley shouted and sneezed. "Call the Animal Control and tell them we have some felines for pickup." The cats didn't seem to be phased by his sneezing and shooing, and continue to rub themselves against his ankles.

"So much for being a highly trained officer. What would the boss think?" Ochoa scanned the room, trying to see between the cats. "We need to find something to help us find the killer."

"The killer of the crazy cat-lady?" Raley sneezed.

"What have I told you about nicknames, Sweet Tea?"

Detective Raley shut right up and gave his partner a sharp glare before getting to work, examining the piles of old magazines on assembled lazily up on her kitchen counter. The felines followed him along the way. He could tell that Ms. Baker was in no way a neat freak and was an apparent cat lover. The stench of congested cat litter boxes filled the air near the bathroom.

His partner proceeded toward her desk and shuffled through each of the drawers to see if there was anything crucial hidden inside that may have gotten her killed.

"Find anything?" Detective Ochoa called into the other room.

"Not anything of direct relevance to the case…but there is a pair of second and third notice bills that haven't been paid."

"So, she's a teacher that is struggling financially, what a shocker," The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

"I don't know, maybe the government got tired of her not paying her bills and used someone to make an example out of her."

The look on Detective Ochoa's face was one of mortification, "Like the CIA or something? It sounds to me like you're just spinning theory and not a good one at that. Am I supposed to start calling you Rook now?" The senior partner joked, but kept his focus on examining the contents of the desk drawers, hoping that he would get lucky and find something of importance.

"Speaking of which, what do you suppose he's doing back here?"

"He probably decided he is warranted another crack at Heat and is trying his best to get her back in his good graces. With the way she's been acting thought, I doubt she is going to be letting him back in." He paused, another idea forming. "I haven't seen any articles from _First Press_ in a good long while either. Maybe he's blocked and needs a good murder to help him get back in the swing of things," Detective Raley continued to spin theory.

"Maybe it's both." Och shrugged. "Hey check it out, I found something." He held up a handwritten letter and began to read it aloud.

"'_Dear Gillian, I have been eagerly anticipated hearing from you again. I can still hardly believe a woman like you would wish to speak to a man like me. I long to see you, as I wish to put a face to the beautifully written words you delivered to me. Your face would be a shining light in the deep darkness of my soul. I hope to hear from you again soon._'"

"Other than being a little flowery, what's so strange about that?" The rookie queried.

"The address, it came from one Grant, Travis inmate 249017, Clinton Correctional Facility. I should call the boss. She is definitely going to want to hear about this," Ochoa said as he pickup up his phone and dialed.

"She was pen pals with an inmate? This case just got good," Raley stated excitedly, sneezing again.

* * *

Rook and Heat had just made it to Public School 11 when she received the call from Ochoa telling her about the Baker woman's pen pal.

"Thanks Detective, call the precinct and tell them we need a rap sheet for a Travis Grant. Hopefully when we're done here, it will be ready for us. Don't forget to bring back all of those letters you find; I want to know exactly what was happening between those two." She hung up the phone as they entered the building.

The public school was closed to students due to the snowstorm. The teachers and staff, however, had been called in. The savvy detective decided this was a tiny stroke of luck, as a student-less school would be the best time to interview them and see exactly what exactly was going on in their victim's personal life. They entered the principal's office and she flashed her badge at the plain looking secretary, who waved them in.

"Hello Principal Snyder, I am Detective Nikki Heat with the NYPD, we talked on the phone this morning about Gillian Baker," she waved her badge again at the principal once she arrived in his office.

"Yes detective, what can I do for you?" Snyder said with a shot of surprise in his voice.

"I was in the neighborhood," she answered his question before he could form it into words. "I thought I would check in and see if your staff had anything to say about her."

"The teachers are in a conference at the moment. However feel free to interview the office staff, my secretary Mrs. Melcher is…was… a friend of Gillian's."

"Thank you Principal Snyder, I'll do that." Nikki turned to Rook who had the principal's rubix cube and was fumbling over it, trying to find its secrets. "Rook hands off. Here read the paper, and try not to touch anything for the next few minutes." She swatted his chest with a copy of the _New York Times_. I have some business to attend to."

While she questioned the secretary about Ms. Baker, Rook kept him busy with the crossword puzzle inside the _New York Times_. It was like a pacifier for him, and she enjoyed the silence while it lasted. He wasn't totally disengaged with the interview, however, and kept his ears out in case some questions arose in his mind that he wished to ask.

"Mrs. Melcher what can you tell me about Gillian Baker?" Detective Heat sat in the chair across from the secretary's desk, the very one she knew many a troubled child had sat in before her.

"Gill was a sweet girl, but spent most of her time alone. I tried to get her to go out with me on nights that my husband wasn't home, but it never happened. She told me that she had a man in her life, but I almost wonder if she just talked about her cats."

"Did she ever mention anything about a pen pal?"

"No, not that she ever mentioned to me, but like I said, I didn't really know her outside of school."

"You said she was quiet and kept to herself most of the time?" Rook asked finally, breaking the hold the crossword had on him.

"She kept to herself, yes. Quiet, not so much. She was a member of PETA, even was involved in a few of their rallies. Most of her cats came from either the streets or medical research facilities."

"Do you remember her saying anything about anyone being angry with her?" Heat interjected before Rook could say anything more.

"Actually, yes. A few weeks ago, she was concerned that a researcher from the facility she got her newest cat from was following her around."

"Can you tell me what facility?"

"She never said, but if you check her phone, I think she took a picture of the man she believed was following her around."

"Thank you Mrs. Melcher, we will do that. Is there anyone else that was friends with Gillian?"

"David. David Ransford, he's the sixth grade science teacher. He talked to Gillian on a daily basis. He might be able to tell you more about her than I was able to."

After being pointed in the direction of Mr. Ransford and thanking the secretary, Detective Heat stood up and turned to Rook, giving him the signal that they were done here.

"Let me guess, we get to talk to the science guy next." It was less of a question and more of a statement.

"See I knew you were good for something, you can state the obvious with the best of them," The good detective teased the smartass journalist.

"You'll pay for that jab, Ms. Heat." Rook threatened halfheartedly.

"What exactly are you going to do about it, Ms. St. Clair?"

Rook gave her a very astute look. "Leave her/me out of this."

Nikki Heat just smiled at her small victory and kept walking. Rook remained at her side, grumbling along the way.

When they reached the conference room, Nikki walked in with no regard to what was going on inside. She stood, poised in the middle of the room, silently deflecting death glares as the chatter faded.

"I'm looking for a David Ransford." She flashed her badge quickly.

A tall dark haired teacher stood up in a panic and sprinted toward the doors in the rear of the conference room.

"Stop! Police!" she shouted at him, but knew he wouldn't stop, they never seemed to want to listen to those two words.

She and Rook followed at a sprint after the escaping man. She signaled for Rook to take a right, even though the teacher took a left. He followed her signal, knowing that she was hoping to cross paths with Ransford again.

She stayed on her path, listening for the labored breathing and the sound of shoes against tile let her know that she was headed in the right direction. Even in her heels, Nikki easily caught up to the man, who was not in any shape to run long distances. She tackled him once she got close, throwing him and herself again a row of lockers.

"David Ransford you are under arrest for the murder of Gillian Baker." She spat out in her most authorities tone.

"Gill's dead?" The sound of true surprise arose from his lips.

"Don't play coy David, why else would you run?" Heat knew that no matter how genuine the man sounded, almost anyone could pull off one hell of an act when trying to cover something up.

Rook rounded the corner just as Heat and Ransford were back on their feet.

"I have outstanding credit. I thought they finally sent you here to arrest me," David panted.

"Oh this is golden," Rook exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Creditors won't send the police after you, not until after you get a visit from repo men," Heat explained with a twinge of annoyance in her throat.

"Either way, it looks like you can explain to us your relationship with Ms. Baker when we bring you to the precinct," Rook said in his most menacing voice, trying to play cop.

"What did I do?"

"You fled from an officer of the law during an active homicide investigation," more annoyance escaped the detective's mouth as she spoke. She led the teacher forward, beginning the dull ramble of his Miranda Rights. "You have the right to remain silent…"

* * *

After a short drive back to the precinct, Heat dumped Ransford off at holding to let him think about what he did. She would take a crack at what he knew about Gillian Baker in a minute, she had a feeling that there was something waiting for her at her desk.

Rook and Heat made their way back to the squad room, and her detective team greeted her as they entered. Roach had been back for quite some time, as the murder board was already updated with what they had found. The detectives almost psychic thought was correct; something _was_ waiting for her at her desk. The rap sheet for Travis Grant lay in a manila folder, over the keyboard to her computer. She unwrapped the string that held it shut and she pulled the information from the envelope. A dark eyed, long haired man stared back at her from the picture on top of the records. It was rather creepy the way he seemed to stare blankly at the camera as the picture was taken.

"Raley can you pin him under persons of interest for me?"

"You got it." He took the picture from her and attached it to the murder board with a magnet under the initials P.O.I.

Heat continued to flip through the pages in her hand. "You guys have got to hear this. She cleared her throat almost undetectably and began, 'Gillian I miss your sweet smell and the taste of your lips. No one can satisfy the monster inside of me the way you seem to be able to, I ache for you, one day soon I will see you again.'"

"They weren't just pen pals," the journalist deduced, "they were lovers."

"Exactly, I say we talk to our Casanova jailbird and see exactly what she wrote to him," the rookie concluded.

The lead detective let herself get pulled into Grant's rap sheet. It read more like a grocery list of felonies, a handful of counts of disturbing the peace, six robbery convictions, and two counts of assaulting an officer. Finally he had multiple counts of first-degree murder.

"An interesting read?" Rook asked her, taking a seat at the desk he once used.

"Uh huh," her focus was unbroken, and she simply continued to read the documents in her hand. He had been arrested in a string of murders across the state of New York involving blonde women, the details seemed to match flawlessly to how Gillian had been killed. This wasn't a coincidence. Her face started to crinkle into a worried grimace as she finished reading and looked up slowly.

"What is it Nikki?" Rook read her like a book.

"Guys call Clinton Correctional, I think they may be missing an inmate, it seems Travis Grant may have escaped, and he could be our killer."

**To anyone offended by the Hugh Jackman joke, I apologize. I do not mean to offend anyone, and the joke will relevant to the plot in a couple of chapters. Thanks you all for reading, I would appreciate reviews, if you so wish. **


	5. Convicts and Killers

**Disclaimer- I don't own Castle or any characters from the show or books**

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Chapter 4- Convicts and Killers**

The tension in the squad room was thick. Everyone was on edge after they heard that a possible prison escapee was on the run, returning to his old M.O. from ten years before. Silence overtook everyone at the 20th precinct when Detective Raley picked up the phone for Clinton Correctional to check on Travis Grant.

Several minutes went by, filled with trepidation. A crowd of officers found their way to Raley's desk as he conversed with the staff at the facility. They huddled close, desperate for information, because no one really knew what to do with themselves until the phone call was over.

"He is? Thanks. No, this is not a prank call," Detective Raley sighed and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. "He's still in his cell."

The crowd that had gathered around his desk had started clapping. However Heat, Ochoa and Rook, all knew better. Instead, they stood in stoic silence, knowing all this meant that their case was going to get harder. A ghost would be much harder to catch than a convict, and they had to do it before he killed again.

"Raley," Heat shouted across the horde of officers, "see if they can schedule a meeting with Mr. Grant and me for the morning. Tell them I want his cell searched and any letters they find brought to me before I have a chat with him."

"Got it," Raley replied and covered his ear that was not attached to his desk phone. He had a hard time hearing the person on the other end through all the celebrating around him. Heat gave the group a quick glare and they scattered, earning a grateful look from Detective Raley.

"What's the next step?" Rook asked.

"I think it's about time that we have a little chat with a science guy." She picked up her desk phone and called down to holding. "Send Ransford to Interrogation-1, I'll be there in a minute to question him." She clicked the phone back down on the receiver. Her chair squeaked as she leaned back on it and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Giving him a minute to think in The Interrogation Room, are we Detective?"

"Of course, I need to look menacing when I go see him. Plus letting his mind wander and start to unravel him can't be a bad thing, can it?"

"Well you've got the first part of your mission accomplished," Rook chucked and waited for her comeback.

A paperclip from her desk struck him directly in the temple. "Wise-ass," she shot him an irritated glance.

"I see your aim is as good as ever Nik."

The clock ticked down, Nikki and Jameson decided that they had enough banter with each other after about twenty minutes and made their way to Interrogation 1. The childish journalist wore a smug grin as he sat down from Mr. Ransford. It was the same smug grin he wore time and again; it had become his staple in the interrogation room. Nikki Heat easily slipped on her menacing façade and followed him in. She wanted to see if he had ever found out that Travis Grant was in contact with Ms. Baker.

David Ransford looked dumbstruck. He clearly had never been in so much trouble in his life. The eyes of the science teacher were bloodshot, telling Nikki that he had been crying or on the verge of crying before they came in.

"Mr. Ransford," the savvy detective began, "I have a few questions for you about your relationship with Gillian Baker, and depending on what you say I may have the DA let you off with a slap on the wrist. How does that sound to you?"

"Good," he coughed. His voice squeakier then it was when they arrested him. "It sounds good. What do you want to know?"

"Mrs. Melcher said she was seeing someone, do you know who that someone was?"

"Not really, no. I asked her out once; she told me she was seeing someone that she started writher to about six months ago."

"She didn't say who?"

"No, I didn't press her on the subject."

Rook took a turn at him. "You see any of those letters they wrote to each other, maybe out of the corner of your eye?"

"Once in the morning before school hours. I didn't see who wrote it, but they were pretty vulgar in their expressions. Not vulgar as in violent, but the terms were not appropriate for her to be bringing to a place where little children could see it."

The detective took the reins again. "You confront her about the letter?"

"No, I would have if I saw it again but I never did."

"Was there anyone else at school that may have seen the letter you spoke of?"

"No one that told me about it. Why? What is so important about that letter?"

"Nothing in particular, I just want to be positive no one had seen it at school that may have traced it back to its source."

"The source? What's the source?"

"You don't need to worry about that, that's up to us to determine," Heat said strikingly.

"Okay, is there anything else from me that you want to know about?"

"No, I…"

Rook interrupted the detective's sentences, and she gave him the evil eye. "Were you and see into anything together, financially speaking? You both seemed to be having trouble financially."

"As a matter of fact, we both got taken for a ride. There was this internet ad that I saw posted one night, about people transforming debt into wealth, I didn't see the harm so I asked her if she wanted in and both got taken to the cleaners. She took the brunt of the damage though, I guess she dropped her life savings into the scam. I should have warned her."

"She do anything about it? Go to the authorities or track down the scammers?" The detective grilled.

"She tried to find them again…wrote a pretty strongly worded letter to the email address that was given."

"Email address, you remember what it was?"

"Sure, you got a pen?"

Heat handed him a slip of paper and a pen. He wrote a short email address on the piece of paper and slid it back to her. "Debt relief fast at , sounds like a fake to me, but this may help us find those scammers. Thank you Mr. Ransford I will talk to the District Attorney's office and recommend that the charges against you be dropped."

"You'll let me go?"

"I can't promise anything, but since you helped me out quite a bit. I'll see what I can do to drop the charges against you, no big deal.

"No big deal," the science teacher chuckled. "You are wonderful," He turned to the journalist. "Don't let this one go."

"I'll try not to," Rook replied and beamed at Detective Heat as she hoisted the science teacher from his chair. "Be more aware in the future when it comes to credit scams Mr. Ransford."

"Thank you both, and please take care of yourselves in this horrible weather, I am no weatherman, but I feel this storm is going to get worse before it gets better," He said finally meeting the officer on the other side of the interrogation room door.

Rook and Heat watched him as he was escorted back to holding in silence.

"That was nice of you detective," Rook said, keeping true form by speaking first.

"Yeah well, I can't condemn everyone I arrest during a murder investigation; I save that for the real scumbags."

"Hey, I take exception to that, you arrested me remember. You were almost sure I did it, until the evidence cleared me."

"Oh I remember, and I also seem to remember enjoying every second of it."

Rook stuck his tongue out at her as they left the interrogation room, and Nikki couldn't help but suppress a small smile as she remembered the day that changed her more than she wanted to admit.

They were quickly stopped by the lead of 20th Precinct Captain Montrose. "I hear you are investigating the man Travis Grant in the morning," Montrose questioned.

"Yes," Heat quickly replied. "What about it sir?"

"I was the arresting officer on that case, if you have any questions, let me know, I'll be here."

"Sir, how exactly did you catch him back then?"

"Good old detective work and a partial finger print, why?"

"Just curious, I may be able to use that against him in the morning."

"Want me to sit in on the interrogation? I would be more than happy to."

"Thank you, sir. That would be a big help."

"Don't mention it Detective. I want to know how he is doing this from behind bars. Oh and good to see you and Rook together again."

"Yes sir," Nikki replied a final time, choosing to ignore his final statement. She gave Rook a scowl and returned to the murder board, updating it to show the events that had transpired since she had last been at her desk.

Once seated at her desk again, she called down to Cybercrime unit and told them about the email address and the credit scam that was linked to it. She hoped that they would be able to trace it back to someone. Roach were at their respective desks, running though their daily paperwork before the night was over.

"What's everyone's plan now?" Rook questioned, keeping his eyes fixated on Detective Heat. "Who's up for a pint at my bar? The first round is on me."

Detective Raley was the first to speak up. "Sorry, got plans tonight."

"Why Sweet Tea, you have a date?" The journalist pushed.

"Maybe," he smiled. "What's it to ya?"

"Nothing, just good to see you getting yourself out there, you're not young forever you know." Rook winked.

Raley left his desk and headed for the elevator, almost as if he was late for something.

Rook turned his attention to the other detectives across the bullpen. "And what about the two of you?"

Heat eyed her other partner, hoping he would respond first, so she didn't have to.

"It couldn't hurt after the stressful day we've had, but I'll just have one, the case isn't even closed yet," Ochoa returned.

"I suppose," the lead detective said half-heartedly. "I'll call Lauren and see if she wants in on this too." She pulled out her cell phone and hit a number on her speed dial.

The Cuban detective tried to hide the enthusiasm at these words. He did however see Rook provide him a grin for his worries.

"To 'The Timeworn Troublemaker'," Rook stood from his seat and enthusiastically pointed his index finger toward the exit of the precinct.

"Your bar is named after you, who would have guessed," a sarcastic tone elevated from Detective Heat's mouth as she rolled her eyes at him.

Raley exited his car, across the street from his apartment. His girlfriend was supposed to be waiting for him upstairs, but he was tardy. Between the street light over his head and its reflection against the freshly fallen snow, it appeared to be just after dusk. The time on his watch read to be closer to nine at night. Kaylee set plans with him at eight thirty, he expected her to give him an ear full.

Kaylee Jacobson was an heiress, not the Paris Hilton type of heiress but one that stood up for the little guy and gave back to the community instead of making a spectacle of herself. Her family had invented shaving cream many, many, many years ago and the money kept rolling in as they were paid every time someone bought a new can of the stuff. Though he didn't care about her money he loved her for her personality and her beauty. To him, she was a perfect ten.

The snow-trotted tracks behind him smeared in his rush to escape the chilling winds and see his sweetheart. _Maybe I could talk her to having a romantic evening in instead_, the thought passed through his mind as he ascended the stairs to his building. The cold stiffness of his hands made it hard to find the right key. He finally did, turning the latch and creaking opening the door. The florescent light from the hallway lit up the scene when he opened the door to his apartment.

Detective Raley tried to gasp for air but couldn't breathe. He couldn't believe his eyes, Kaylee lay in the middle of his living room, and she was wearing a white sundress. Whatever future they had going for them was gone. She was dead.

He should have known, she was blonde, attractive, and a social butterfly, she was a high profile target and the Irish cop saw it too late. The scene seemed eerily familiar to one that he experienced the evening before. A pure white sundress was not her normal style. Someone had displayed her for him. His capability as a cop told his as much.

She looked as if she were sleeping, peaceful, but the mark on the side of her neck, spoke volumes about what had occurred here, probably less than an hour ago. Her cold alabaster skin, that once had a healthy warm glow was now gone.

It took Raley a few minutes after he entered his apartment, to compose himself and call in what he had found. This probably meant that he had to get pulled off the case. He didn't want pulled off, he wanted answers, and he wanted justice for the woman that he loved. Only time would tell if he would get that.

He stepped out to his ledge, and listened for the familiar sound of sirens wailing in the distance. She was among the departed now, and he was alone yet again.

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**I always appreciate a helpful review.**


	6. Those Three Words

**Disclaimer- I don't own Castle or any characters related to the show or books.**

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Those Three Words

The Timeworn Troublemaker was buzzing with chatter from its many patrons. The sent of stale beer filled every corner of the establishment, and the new age jukebox next to the bar seemed to be playing straight off Rooks playlist. The remastered version of 'The Beatles' _All You Need Is Love_ floating from its speakers may have proven that assumption to be true.

The playlist's owner was seated at the bar nursing his third glass of scotch of the evening and Heat was on her second beer. They were seated next to each other, much to Heat's disapproval. Detective Ochoa had already taken off, after only one drink, and it appeared as though off duty ME Lauren Parry was about to do the same. She stood; ready to leave, not even five minutes after Ochoa. However, she was held back by the intrusive writer before being able to advance further than her bar stool.

"Where are you off to pretty lady?" Rook questioned, sounding almost as intoxicated as the night before.

"I got to be up early tomorrow, I can't look this good without my beauty sleep," Lauren retorted firmly to his question.

"You sure you aren't meeting a certain homicide detective after hours?" He pressed.

"I wouldn't know what you are talking about." Lauren headed for the door, trying to avoid any more meddlesome questions from the journalist. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Smack him if you have to, Nik."

Rook scoffed and rolled his eyes at this, as if to say, _Thanks, thanks a lot._

"You know the secret that those two are keeping don't you," He quipped after Lauren was out of sight.

"Maybe I do, but I am not going to tell you, writer-boy, or should I say 'Timeworn Troublemaker,' Nikki laughed at her own comment, stopping abruptly at the look he had shot her.

"You aren't too far gone, are you detective?" Rook asked. His smirk was supposed to be charismatic, but she saw it as a sinister grin.

She leaned in close to him, placing her hand on his thigh. "You only wish," she replied, smacking him lightly on the cheek with her free hand. _Get in control! You will not sleep with him. Repeat. You will not sleep with him, _the beautiful detective thought to herself, as sinful ideas darted into her head all the same. "Thanks for your help today, Jameson. I uncovered more with you around than I would have alone."

Rook was shocked. He had never known her to be so forth coming with compliments before, but ever the poker player, he didn't let it show. "No problem," he stated nonchalantly and shot her a pleasing smile.

A new song began to play on the jukebox, and Rook recognized it as, _Fact-Fiction_ by Mads Langer.

He perked up immediately. "I love this song! Want to dance?"

"I—N-No," she stammered.

"Let's go!" Rook grabbed her hand as he sprang off his bar stool. He was surprisingly light on his feet in spite of the volume of alcoholic beverages he had consumed.

Together they swayed to the rhythm of the music, right in the middle of the establishment. She didn't want to admit it but she was enjoying herself, and enjoying the company she was with. It had been too long since they had danced together and too long since she had let herself feel this way.

_Damn he's persistent! _She swore in her head. _I need to get out of here. I have nobody to back me up anymore. Lauren, I hope Ochoa is worth this! _She cursed silently at her friend who had seemingly abandoned her. _Jameson Rook is going to win this if I don't do something soon,_ she thought, finally getting her mind back together. "I think it's time for me to leave," she blurted out suddenly. Rook was surprised at the sound of her voice, because neither one of them had spoken since they started dancing. Nikki continued, "We still have a case to finish, and I didn't sleep much last night, so I believe I should head home."

Rook gave her a squeeze, and wouldn't let her go. "No one leaves until the song is over."

"Fine," she sighed. Deep down, she hoped she could hold out that long.

Her head rested on his shoulder, she tried to listen to the lyrics. A small chuckle escaped from her because the song reminded her of them. She and Rook were so different but at the same time there was something that connected them.

It took a moment, but she soon noticed that his lips were mere inches from hers and his eyes were closed, he too was enjoying the moment with her. _What would a little kiss hurt?_ She asked herself. She lifted herself from his shoulder, shaking her head slightly to knock those naughty thoughts from inside it.

"I remember your safe word is pineapples," he whispered in her ear, almost as if reading her thoughts.

"I…I'm still wearing my gun Rook," Heat threatened as she finally forced them apart.

"Sexy," he called louder then he meant to.

"Do I have to subdue you?" She asked him, headed back toward the stool to get her coat.

"Yes please." He put on his coat, ready to follow her wherever she went.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

Rook got serious, more serious she had probably ever seen him. "You- -you can't I- -I follow you…because…I love you," He finally managed to get out.

Nikki stopped short for one half of a second, and then continued to head for the door. She wasn't ready to respond to this statement. The blizzard outside was going to be easier to handle than facing him. Running out into the icy air, her tears froze in place. She willed herself to stop crying; she couldn't show any emotion to the man that had broken her heart.

The door swung open behind her as she began her flight to safety, moving as fast as the snow would allow.

"Nik!" He called into the flurries.

She didn't turn around.

* * *

It had been nearly an hour since another couple found each other again at an apartment across town. Detective Ochoa and Lauren Parry were once again engulfed in the wrestling match that was tantric sex. They had been hiding it from their coworkers for months-with the exception of Nikki, who she could hide nothing from. Details were sketchy at the precinct, but people had started to talk about the amount of time they spent together, even on cases.

Who were they kidding?

A work relationship wouldn't stay hidden forever, and deep down they knew that. Ochoa dreaded his eventual chat with his captain, about sex in the workplace. He knew better, and they hadn't even thought about it. Except for the time in the men's bathroom up on five, they had been 'dating' for a week when most of the occurrences happened, and they just couldn't hold it until they got home. They had not even been on a genuine date because they just couldn't seem to get past the threshold of the door and into the hallway of their apartments when they make plans. A better classification of their relationship would be 'Sexcapades'.

Lauren wondered if there would be any more to it than strictly sex. At the moment, she was fine with the set up, but she knew herself better than to think it would be enough in the future. She didn't dare bring it up to him, not yet, for fear of hurting his pride. Ochoa felt the same.

A loud ring interrupted them. Ochoa's mobile was the one making the distracting commotion. It was the precinct calling, he took a minute before he answered it. He had to catch his breath or the rumors really might start flying, because the woman next to him had worn him out.

"Ochoa," he finally answered. Someone had been murdered again. After a minute or more on the phone, he couldn't believe what they said. It shook him to his very core; he knew that address, it was Raley's place. He dressed as quickly as he was able, all the while ignoring Lauren's questions. It wasn't until he had fully clothed when he finally responded to her. "I think something's happened to Raley, stay here, I don't want you getting hurt, lock the door behind me when I leave." Ochoa said in a rush. "I love you," was the last word out of his mouth as he made for the exit.

The look of shock formed across her face. First, because, he'd never said that before, and second,_ What happened to Raley? _ Both thoughts formed into her mind simultaneously.

She got up, dressed only in his cotton bed sheet, and bolted the door behind him.

"I love you too." She murmured.

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**Reviews always welcome!**


	7. Ghost in the Apartment

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle or any charters from related books.**

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The Ghost in the Room

The gumball on her car spun, highlighting the surrounding snow banks with an eerie crimson glow as she passed. Nikki had gotten the call to meet at Raley's apartment just as Ochoa had. A body had been discovered there, thankfully not his, but she hurried none the less. Normally in a situation like this, it would have been pedal to the metal time. Even though the roads had just been plowed and salted, they would still have contained slick spots that would make an officer of the law look pathetic if they had gotten themselves stuck. Nikki Heat didn't want that to happen.

The weather report blared on the radio. Twelve inches had fallen since last night, and more was expected before the storm was over. The worst seemed to be yet to come. A batch of freezing rain was expected to be mixed into the next day's forecast of foul weather, which was sure to create sheets of ice across the roadways. Winds were going to pick up, only fifteen mph this morning, but escalating to thirty tomorrow, and gusts near fifty. Whiteout conditions in most areas were likely.

Most of the flights to and from the area had been grounded, and the airports were shut down and potential passengers stranded inside. The public transportation system in the city was all but nonexistent, the only working transit system was the subway and that was expected to shut down by tonight for safety's sake. The normally busy thoroughfares that her car crossed were deathly silent now. This storm was turning New York into a ghost town.

The silence that she experienced traveled as far as inside of her own car. Rook was sitting shotgun and had turned to a foul mood when she didn't answer him and ran out of his bar. When she got the call she granted him the courtesy of a ride-along, but their conversation had not extended further than that. The radio was the only sound she heard until pulling up near Raley's apartment, applying just enough brake to stop, but not too much that would slide her car along the ice. She killed the engine and stepped into the frigid air.

Heat entered the building, almost marveling at how cold she got after only traveling a few feet from her Crown Vic to the entrance to the apartment complex. She had been to Raley's place only a handful of times before, usually game nights with the rest of the gang, way before Rook's time. Those nights were some of her best memories with Roach, when they all could be themselves and not have to worry about titles or who was 'technically' the boss of whom. Those memories vacated her mind the instant she noticed the body splayed across the living room carpet. All she could think of was how hard this would hit Raley, and how long it would take him to overcome this tragedy.

The footprints of CSU, a handful of beat cops, and the tracks that were made by the stretcher had etched themselves into the welcome mat that she strode over as she entered the apartment. One person died, many people had to respond.

"Evening Detective." The charming uniform gave her a smile, and blatantly undressed her with his eyes.

A mind full of faces scanned for his, and she finally remembered him from a year and a half ago. It was the cop that hit on her at the Guilford crime scene. He'd chosen a bad day and a worse place to try his luck again.

"Don't." Her tone told him to back off.

"Yes detective," he said instantly, a flicker of fear emerging from his throat. One word was enough for the rest of the evening, because afterwards, that particular uniform did his best not to meet her eyes.

After clearing her thoughts and taking a moment to let the world settle, as per her ritual, her mind went right to work, piecing together the connection between the two women before she even knew any information about the body in front of her. The only thing that popped at the moment was Raley. She didn't remember him telling them he had a lady friend, although it seemed that Rook was correct in estimating that he had a date that evening. The most junior of her detective team wasn't speaking however. It appeared that he couldn't despite Detective Ochoa's best effort to break his partner out of what looked to be an out of body experience.

Rook had entered after Heat, giving her some space after the cold shoulder she game him during the car ride. He was the fool that brought his emotions to the table way too early in the game. He couldn't blame her for shutting herself down, at least to him. The corner of the apartment nearest to the bedroom where no one was would be the best place for him. That way he would be out of the way of the true professionals, letting them focus on their work instead of his harassing queries. It was a perfect place so he could still keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Even though he was hurt by Nikki's reaction, he would fire up if he perceived anything abnormal. It was the right thing to do, not to mention the professional thing to do.

He had been to Raley's place once before, just after he and Heat had become mutually exclusive. He, Roach, and Captain Montrose had watched the Super bowl together, happily indulging in the cigars the Captain had brought to the party. Although they had much more fun then, it would not be imprinted into their memories like tonight would be.

Tim the M.E. went right to work, examining the body ever-so-closely. Both victims were similar in appearance, blonde, attractive, and appeared to be close to the same height and weight. There was no bruising on her wrists and ankles, indicating that she not been bound. The similar MO told him to make note that they could be dealing with a serial killer, but the lack of bruising told him that it could be a coincidence.

Heat eyed Rook in the corner. Knowing him as she did, it was obvious to her that he was trying to be good. A lump formed in her throat when she saw him, alerting her that she was actually sorry for the coldness she had shown earlier. She would apologize later; there were more pressing matters to attend to right in front of her.

With no signs of a struggle apparent in the apartment, Kaylee was either killed elsewhere or she knew her attacker. Both scenarios were possible at this point, and Nikki knew she would have some hard work ahead of her trying to figure out which was the case.

She swore, loud enough to get a few looks from faces around her. The first thing she wanted to do was rule Raley out, but friend or not, he was still a potential suspect. Depending on TOD, he would most likely have an airtight alibi because he was working. Cops made trustworthy people to confirm alibis. It all depended on if Tim could give her a better window on the time of death. She hoped he could do that soon so she could quickly pull Raley off the suspect list. The last thing she needed was to feel duped by working with and being friends with, a dirty cop.

Detective Heat approached the irritable Medical Examiner, who sensed her approach and turned his head to greet her, nodding.

"What can you tell me Tim?" She asked the M.E. as she crouched at the body with him.

"Time of death was around eight thirty, since she hasn't gone into full rigor yet.

Nikki let out a sigh of relief, thinking,_ Raley had just left the precinct when it occurred_. "Thank goodness for small favors."

"Yes, too true detective, may I continue?" Tim asked harshly, continuing before she could respond. "She has the same type of mark on the side of her neck. This tells me it may be connected to the Baker woman's murder for last night. Also as you can tell she is wearing a white sundress just like Ms. Baker was. The clear difference to me was that she wasn't bound, though the faint odor of chloroform seems to be emanating from her mouth."

The detective leaned over the victim and waved her hand toward her. Even though it wasn't strong, the distinct smell of chloroform wafted into her nose. "She was knocked out before she was killed?"

"Near as I can tell, but I won't be able to determine that for sure until I've done a proper autopsy."

The savvy detective sprang back to her feet. "I'll let you get back too it then."

"Tell Detective Raley that my thoughts are with him," Tim the M.E. expressed.

"Will do," Nikki tried to smile, but it turned out like a grimace.

As Heat turned a member of CSU stopped her in her tracks. He was beefier than most of the other members, as well as the only one with salt and pepper hair. "Can you spare a minute detective?"

"What can you tell me?"

"This place is clean, and by clean I mean no prints, what so ever, except for Detective Raley's and the victims."

"So they either wore gloves or cleaned up after themselves"

"Looks that was for the moment."

She read between the lines. "If you're not done sweeping, why did you come over?" She questioned, trying not to sound too harsh.

"Reason I came over, was to tell you that the Baker crime scene is clean for prints as well. The truck had no discernable identification and the VIN number was scratched off. If I had to guess it was stolen."

"Thanks for that," Nikki shot sarcastically, not appreciating his guess work.

"Did your people find any vomit?" The reporter's voice questioned from a distance.

Heat turned toward the direction the question was asked. Her mouth opened to say something to him, but quickly clamped it shut. She smiled and nodded in thanks instead.

"Yeah, we found a bit of sick near the back entrance to the convenience store, looked to me like the clerk lost his lunch when he saw the body."

"Thanks," Heat stated simply. Her attention turned this time toward Rook who was once again staring at her.

* * *

Across the room, Ochoa was trying his best to comfort his young partner, but had little luck consoling him. Raley seemed catatonic and unable to move. Their partnership would never be quite the same after this moment, but he would still try to make the best out of it.

He tried his damnedest to make Detective Raley smile or show any kind of emotion.

"Hey Rales remember this? Wolverine, no!" He cried weakly, trying to mimic the joke that Raley had told him earlier that day. Raley's face twitched, almost wanting to snicker, because of the smile that was evident on his partners face.

"Wolverine, no!" He said louder, from the back of his throat this time, and noticed a clear response. Raley was laughing; it was true that dumb joke always made him laugh.

"Thanks man," Raley continued to half-chuckle between words, "I really needed that."

"No problem," the slightly embarrassed detective responded. "You going to be okay from now on? Because I am not saying that stupid joke again."

"No worries, I think I can manage. I still can't believe you don't think that joke is funny."

"It's growing on me," Ochoa said and smiled.

Raley turned and looked at his girlfriend's lifeless body again, the cloud of hurt never leaving his eyes. "Do you think it's the same guy that killed that Baker woman?"

"Maybe, you think of anyway that they may have been connected?"

"She was also a member of PETA, but not a vocal member. A few monetary donations to a few of their rallies was all she really did."

"A connection is a connection, it's better than nothing. I'm sorry man, I really am."

"I know you are, but it's not like you can really understand what is going on, can you?" He said softly.

"I don't know what I would do if…" Ochoa stopped in his tracks for a moment. "…oh to hell with it, if something was to happen to Lauren."

"Lauren? You mean to tell me, you and she…?"

"…have been seeing each other for a while now, yes," Ochoa finished his partner's declaration.

"Congratulations man, why didn't you tell me sooner," Raley slapped his partner on the back.

"We wanted to keep it quiet for a while. Sorry not to say anything sooner."

"Anyone else know about this before me?" Raley pondered, needing to get his mind off of Kaylee.

"Heat already knew Lauren told her, and Rook just guessed at the bar tonight. Otherwise you're the first one that I've told."

"Thanks, that means a lot, man. Oh, and I was about to tell you about Kaylee. But now…" He trailed, gesturing.

Ochoa sighed, "I know man. Come on, I want to see if the boss has found out anything useful."

Roach walked toward Heat and Rook, watching them share theories like they did in the past, each with a slight smirk on their face.

"Hi boss, Rook, sorry about earlier…I…"

"Save it Raley, I get what you're going through. I went through the same thing a few years back. According to Captain Montrose, it made me a better detective. But just know, if you ever need anyone to talk to..." She trailed.

"I will keep that in mind. Thank you. I just want to catch this son of a bitch before he kills again."

A heavy clicking sound stirred them from their conversation. Tim had placed Kaylee Jacobson's body on the stretcher and zipped up the body bag. Heat, Roach, and Rook all watched as Tim rolled the stretcher towards the door. She was not one of the officers that they worked with, but she was Raley's girl. If she was important to him, she was important to them.

* * *

After the body had headed to the morgue for further investigation, Nikki Heat, with her team still at her side, had to decide what their next step was going to be. She decided her first step was to call their skipper, Captain Montrose and inform him on what had occurred at Raley's place just a few short hours before. She pulled out her phone from her jacket pocket.

After the first three rings a voice responded at the other end. "Hello?"

"Captain its Heat, someone killed Raley's girlfriend. It appears to be the same person that killed the Baker woman as well. There was no sign of forced entry or a struggle. It was as if she knew her attacker."

"It wasn't…"

"No sir," Nikki interrupted, reading the Captain's mind. "He had just left the precinct when the murder transpired. He was probably lucky that we kept him as late as we did."

"How is Detective Raley holding up?"

"Okay. Better than I did when I found my mother in the kitchen. He does have more experience with death than I did."

"I want you to question him about her when he's up to it. Remind him that the faster we find out information about the victim the sooner we can catch her killer."

"The thing is, Sir, he wants to be part of the investigation. Do you feel that's wise?"

"I would give you the same opportunity Detective, so why not give him a chance as well. Just make sure that he can handle looking into her case and won't go off on his own."

"Yes sir," Heat said to finish the conversation.

"I want a black and white to tail each of you during this investigation. I want to make sure that the killer isn't following you and trying to take you or the people you love out one by one."

"But Sir…"

"No buts Detective. I don't want anything to happen to any of you, so it is best to play it safe." The phone clicked off on the other end. She knew that he would call the precinct next and send any available squad cars to their locations.

The savvy detective looked back at her team. They had been watching her on the phone the entire time, trying to guess what the Captain was saying on the other end.

"Raley you can still be a part of this investigation, if you keep your cool."

"I can do that, if it means I can look that S.O.B. in the face that killed Kaylee," he wore as smirk as he spoke, but his eyes screamed for vengeance.

"Keep it under control or you're off the case, you understand Detective Raley?"

Raley simply nodded.

"Also we are all being given tails. The Skipper thinks that it may be personal now and each of us is at risk."

"Did you tell him about me and Lauren?"

"It wasn't my place to."

Detective Ochoa did his best to look casual when he pulled out his cell and dialed for the Captain.

"You love her don't you?" Heat questioned.

Ochoa thought back to his last words to Lauren as he left her in his apartment. "I do, I told her so without even thinking about it before I left her place to come here."

"She really cares about you. I can see it in her eyes when she talks about you."

The Cuban detective just smiled in response and began to speak to the Captain about his relationship with Lauren Parry.

"What's next on the agenda?"

"We have a long drive up North to Clinton Correctional Institution. We've got to visit Grant and ask him some questions."

"That's like two hundred miles away!" the journalist exclaimed.

"I know that, they're not much help are they," Heat sighed. Blizzard conditions, long distances, and an annoying reporter were three reasons why Heat didn't wish to go. The cop in her knew that finding the truth outweighed each of those reasons. "It isn't going to be a fun journey with all the snow and wind either, but we gotta do it."

"We best leave now then. I'll take the first shift out of the city."

"Wait Rook, I didn't agree to that…" Heat chased him to the exit of the building, forgetting for a moment that she had the keys. Once she remembered, she glared at him and held her keys possessively to her chest.

"Not on your life, writer boy."

Wiping the smirk off her face, she turned to Roach and said, "I want you two to find me a connection, a _clear_ connection, between Gillian Baker and Kaylee Jacobson. We will hopefully be back sometime tomorrow night if everything goes okay. Call me when you find something."

"Be safe you two," Ochoa, who was now off the phone, teased her as she spun around to depart.

She flipped him the bird and disappeared into the snowy white night.

* * *

**A/N: As always, a thank you to my Beta for this story, morethanamuse. **


	8. New York's Siberia

**Disclaimer- I do not own Castle or any affiliated works. Wish I did.**

* * *

New York's Siberia 

The journey north to Dannemora, NY, where the Correctional Facility was located, was as treacherous as it was long. Rook had finally wrestled the keys and the driving privileges for the first stretch of road from Nikki, who had been bribed with the promise of silence for a much desired nap. He picked up a coffee in the last shop open before they left the city limits so to maintain his consciousness, just as the woman next to him coasted off into dreamland.

Rook was impressed with the work that the NY Department of Transportation had accomplished. The roads were clear outside the city, or at least the highways were. He didn't dare take anything but the lengthy highway to their destination. Visibility was bad, and he had to keep running the windshield wipers to maintain the little sight he did have. Luckily for the journalist, only cross traffic they passed was an occasional country snow plow tirelessly maintaining the constantly messy roadways. Salt pellets from the truck slammed into the side of the Crown Vic. Rook hoped a few pellets of salt wouldn't upset her too much, as long as he got them there safely. Cursing and threats of violence would be all that he would hear from her if he managed to get them stuck in a snow bank many miles from home.

Once they were a little further than the halfway point around two in the morning, Rook gently shook the napping detective back to consciousness.

"You didn't get us stuck did you?" She mumbled; the first garbled thing he heard from her before she opened her eyes.

"Detective Heat where is the trust?" Rook whined in the most hurt voice he could muster. "We're halfway there and it's your turn to drive."

Heat opened her eyes and saw that Jameson Rook told the truth, for they were stopped at a gas station and the car was turned off. She suddenly felt the cold chill around her as she awoke completely.

"Coffee?" She nodded and Rook handed her a cup when she sat up. "I thought that you looked cold sitting there and would need a pick me up to get your blood going again."

"That's sweet of you." She took the cup from him and took a short sip. It was hot, and made just the way she preferred it. He remembered. He _always_ remembered. She smiled slightly, the edges of her lips twitching upward just a touch. "Thanks," she managed, once the coffee smoothed itself down her throat.

The blast of cold wind hit them both hard as they stepped out of the car to switch spots. They each nearly bolted to the opposite side of the car that they started from to escape the whipping wind and biting chill. Once back inside the car, Heat made an astute comment about Rook's earlier statement.

"So how long did you watch me sleep before you woke me, Jamie?" Heat turned her head and smirked as she adjusted the seat, never giving her poker face away.

He stammered slightly before responding with, "I don't know what you mean by that."

"Right…" She flashed her signature eye roll his way. "Anyway, you ready?"

Rook nodded and shut his eyes so he could try to take a catnap before they arrived at their destination.

Nikki started up the car again, and knocked both the heat and the blower all the way up to get the car as warm as she could. As she pulled out of the gas station, she noticed a police cruiser start up as well and begin to following her. It was most likely the tail that Montrose had promised he would put on her much to her discontentment. _How long has he been following us?_ The thought danced through her head.

Once she knew Rook was asleep, she reached inside her coat and under her blouse to pull out the necklace that held her mother's ring. After she had woken, she hadn't wanted to tell him that she had a bad dream during her in-car nap. Anyway, it was over now, and she didn't want to worry him. The dream she had was definitely a reoccurring one, something that had terrified her in the past. She was running, running faster than she had ever run before. A phone was in her hand and she put it to her ear. The first thing she heard was the sound of something hitting a tile floor and then a moan coming from her mother's throat. The dream stopped where it always did, when she saw her mother's lifeless body.

Heat stirred herself back into the real world once more, just in time to narrowly avoid a snow bank. She spat out an expletive and tucked the ring back under her blouse. Her hands found the ten and two spots on the wheel and held them tightly. The road was covered with small embankments of snow, as the wind had picked up while she slept. If her mother had been alive she would have probably been furious with her for taking such a stupid risk in the middle of a blizzard.

She eyed the napping writer. If her mother hadn't died she wouldn't have ever met him. Her mind clashed over the idea; whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. She thought about what he said to her earlier this evening. Those three little words she heard him utter; she didn't find them all that bad in this particular instant. A telling grin decorated her face as she continued to make way down the gloomy highway.

Morning had arrived nearly at the same moment they reached their destination; Clinton Correctional Institution. It was the state's largest maximum security facility and it was surrounded by a small hamlet of a town called Dannemora; population was only about five thousand people.

Jameson Rook had stirred himself awake about an hour before their arrival just as the sun peeked between the clouds. He gave the detective an ear full of information about the town and the prison she didn't wish to know.

"The prison was founded 1845 to have inmates work the local mine, but it wasn't profitable, so they had them work other trades instead. In 1899 it was home to a mental institution for the criminally insane…Arkyum Asylum had nothing on this place," Rook rattled out.

"Where?" Heat questioned, keeping it under her hat that she knew what he was talking about.

"You know from Batman."

"You're such a geek," she teased.

"Anyway," Rook took the abuse in stride, "the mental institute was closed in the latter half of the twentieth century and was used as an annex to house more prisons. Being a maximum security prison, death row inmates were a part of the package, Travis Grant being one of them. In 1941 the Church of St. Dismas, the Good Thief was built by inmates who wished themselves saved. It became a historical landmark in 1991."

Though impressed with Rook's expansive knowledge in all things criminal she told him to, "Zip your yap," once they pulled up to the exterior of the prison and she parked her car. She stepped out and noticed right away that it was colder here in upstate New York then it was in the city, even with the bright sun shining down on them.

The NYPD blue and white tail that had been placed on them, pulled up behind them. The driver was finally visible to her and was shocked to see who had been driving it. Shlemming, the inept cop that had once been a detective for burglary had stepped down from his former position and become a uniform yet again.

She approached the squad car. "Shlemming, you're my tail?"

"So it would seem. Nice to work with you, Detective Heat," the former detective replied politely.

"We can't talk, we have some business to attend to inside."

He didn't seem to hear her. "Hi Jamie," Shlemming shouted to the journalist who waved back, his face remaining stoic.

"We should be heading in. Can you stay out here and watch for suspicious activity?" The voice that came from her was forced yet kind.

"Will do, glad to be of service," he replied as they left him to keep watch.

"You think the Captain hates your right now, don't you?" Rook questioned her.

"Not my place to say, but I doubt whoever killed Kaylee Jacobson isn't going to follow me all this way in broad daylight and try to kill me."

"Good point, but Shlemming? Really? You must have done something," he fished.

"Not to defend the guy, but he has actually become a halfway decent uniform in the short time he has held the position, it kind of suits him."

"Really. You don't say. I'll be damned." Rook said, clearly unimpressed.

Once they had reached the entrance to the prison, two guards posted as sentries at the door, one armed with a rifle strapped to his shoulder the other with a Beretta handgun on his hip, approached them. "Welcome to New York's own Siberia, you must be Detective Heat?" The guard that approached them asked the journalist.

He stammered for a moment and looked at the real Heat.

"I'm Detective Nikki Heat." She slanted her head toward the journalist's direction. "This is Jameson Rook."

"I'm sorry Ma'am. We thought we were being visited by a _Nick_ Heat," the sentry with the rifle replied awkwardly.

"No problem, it happens," Nikki looked to her annoying shadow and saw him smirking back at her knowingly, clearly reading her mind. "Is Mr. Grant ready to see us?"

"He will be in about twenty minutes. He's the preacher of our prisoner's local church."

"St. Dismas?" Heat replied in the form of a question. The past couple of days clumped together so much she had forgotten completely that it was Sunday.

"That's the one. Do you wish to wait in our visitor's area until service is concluded?" The sentry with the pistol asked.

Detective Heat nodded.

The guard with the rifle escorted them to the visitor center. First thing they had to do was pass Security, who relieved Heat of her service pistol, the knife she kept stashed on her ankle, her cell, her car keys and her necklace that contained her mother's ring. Rook also had to give up his keys and iPhone as well as the .38 handgun he had secured to his waistband.

Nikki gave him a worried look when she spotted the gun. He returned her a shrug and a smile, in a 'boys will be boys' sort of way. She took a mental note to ask him about it when they were alone again.

They made their way across the compound. Shouting could be heard across the complex, giving Rook fuel for a question.

"Something tells me that most of these inmates we hear aren't the church going type, are they?"

"You guessed it, we don't have many that attend, but those that do are the avid religious kind, they think they can be saved by worshiping. I think it's just wishful thinking," said the guard escorting them.

He guided them through another walkway with bars on both sided, they heard the guard call on his radio, "Open six," the cell door blocking their path opened slowly allowing them to pass through. "Close six," he uttered to his radio again just as they passed the gateway.

"How long has Grant been the leader of the church?" Rook continued his line of questioning.

"Let me think, he's been here for about ten years and I believe he started his religious kick around year five," the guard explained.

"Any reason as to why he wanted the job?"

"I got no clue myself, it was before my time." Another hallway wrapped around a room with a door at the far end. An arrow pointed its way across the floor up to the door, a sign above it read visitors center. The guard opened the door for them. "Ten minutes and he's all yours." They walked in and the door slammed shut behind them.

The room was divided by thick glass and dividers on each side of two-way phones. The phones were used to monitor communications between inmates and visitors to make sure no illegal activities were being strategized. Two additional guards were positioned at the two far corners of the inmate side of the room, surveying the populous.

"We're here to see Travis Grant," The detective explained to the guard closest to them.

"Seat number three," the guard replied in a booming voice.

The two made their way to the booth marked with a number three, only one chair made them pause for a moment until Rook pulled the chair from booth four and offered the original to Nikki. Once they were situated they watched the door at the prisoner side of the glass and waited for the man they wished to question.

"So what was the gun about?" Nikki whispered in the ear of the man sitting beside her.

"Protection," Rook whispered back to her. "I need something to defend myself when I didn't have you around to protect me anymore."

An eye roll was all she needed to show him what she thought of that statement. "Come on, really?"

"I bought it and licensed it just after I bought the bar," he continued as she shook her head at him. You may disapprove, but I am glad I got it. Although I haven't had to use it yet and usually only keep it at The Timeworn Troublemaker, I thought it may come in handy during the case so I brought it along."

"Do me a favor and leave at it home tomorrow. You'll save me the trouble of paperwork, in case you shoot yourself," Heat spoke loud enough that guards around the room looked at them.

"Ha, ha, Detective, very funny," Rook said in a quick huff.

Nikki glared back with a hint of playfulness in her voice. "I wasn't kidding."

They sat in silence after their discussion, hoping for the door on the other side of glass would open.

Five additional minutes had gone by before the door swung open to reveal a man walking in. Travis Grant was being escorted in by a third guard on the prisoner side of the room. The prisoner's appearance differed greatly to the photo Detective Heat had seen in his arrest record. His hair was shorter now and his eyes seemed almost brighter, even in a place so dreary. It seemed to her that prison had actually done Grant some good, for the ten years he had spent in there. He took a seat in the chair across from them, pulling the phone off the receiver. The detective did the same, holing the earpiece out so both she and Rook could hear what the man had to say.

"Detective Heat I presume," his voice was soft and calm, but he spoke with a forked tongued hiss.

The detective watched his body movement, gathering information from his behavior. "Thank you for seeing us Travis. This is Jameson Rook, a journalist for…"

"…_First Press_, yes I have read some articles, yours are particularly respectable Mr. Rook. I have also read the one about you Detective, very instructive," the prisoner said through a grin.

A shiver struck Nikki Heat's spine but she didn't shudder since it would show feebleness to her adversary. "Did you bring the letters we asked for?"

He maintained the smirk he fabricated for the Detective, not pulling his gaze from hers. "Louis," he gestured to the guard that had escorted him in. "Can you give the letters you got from my cell to the detective and her friend?"

The watchman named Louis exited the room opening the door adjacent to it. In a matter of seconds he was upon them, on their side of the room, handing the detective a stack of rubber-banded envelopes addressed to the prison. Heat locked eyes with Louis the guard, it wasn't too long a meet but for her trained eyes, it was enough. He looked as if he hadn't been sleeping well. Heavy bags sagged under his eyes. Louis returned to watch over Grant and Heat turned her attention to the letters that were now in her possession.

She began to flip through them and noted that they were dated as far back as two years. Whatever relationship he had with the first victim, it had begun about the same time that her relationship began with Rook.

While Heat was busy strategizing, by thumbing through the old letters, Rook took the opportunity to distract the man on the other side of the glass "How long have you been a fan of First Press Celebrity Magazine?" He asked.

"I read whatever I can come across, because magazines are a rarity these days. But one does make it my way on occasion."

"It's alright, I haven't written for them in a while. I'm dealing with a bit of writer's block you see," Rook commented sadly. "Detective, do you have any questions for Mr. Grant?"

Heat didn't respond. She was engrossed by the last letter he ever received from Gillian Baker.

_Dear Travis, I am so glad that your appeal is finally coming up. I hope everything goes well for you and we can be together again very soon. I am counting the days until your response to this and I haven't even sent it yet, so I feel so very silly doing so. I can't believe we have been connecting like this for nearly two years. I enjoy these letters with you so much but I crave for more. I don't know about you, but the short time we spend together during those timed conjugal visits isn't enough to fulfill me. _

_Be good so that I can have you for a very, very long time._

_Some of my students commented on the necklace you got for me, one little girl even said it was 'the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world'. Don't you think that is just darling? I love those kids as if they were my own most days. Maybe one day we can have children… a girl can dream, right? You are the only one that I would want that with Travis, the only one. Hope all is well, I love you._

_ GB_

After what she had just read, Nikki Heat took a moment before she knew where to start. Gillian Baker was obviously in love with the man sitting across from. She couldn't go at this like a normal interrogation, the man before her would expect it. Despite his mask of chivalry and goodness lie the heart of a criminal and killer. A swallow was all she needed before she began. "I am sorry I have to tell you this Travis, but your girlfriend was murdered the night before last."

The grin adorning his face vanished and it became a blank slate. It took a moment before he could respond. "I had a feeling this had to do with Gillian, but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't think how anyone would want to hurt her. I was going to propose after I had my parole hearing, whether they would let me out or not."

"I am sorry for your loss. Unfortunately that isn't the worst news I am baring this day," The detective solemnly explained.

"Worse than murder? I don't dare speculate," The prisoner's cheerful tone was replaced with one of both shock and sadness.

"Someone has started killing blonde women, starting with Ms. Baker. They are using the same method you used ten years ago," She didn't hold back her distain for what the man had done in the past.

Travis Grant's face was blank. Unreadable, "I…I don't expect you to believe me, but I didn't kill anyone."

Heat opened her mouth to retort, but the convict continued before she had a chance to.

"I was a bad man and I deserved to be in here. I don't deny that, but I didn't kill anyone. I would especially never kill a woman."

The detective held back a patronizing snort, "Don't try and fool me Travis, we know all about the evidence against you, it was solid. I personally know the man who arrested you. He would continue on the case and make sure that he didn't miss any evidence."

"I'm sure your friend, Detective Montrose, if I remember correctly?" Grant pondered to himself, "did the right thing, made the arrest against the guiltiest suspect, but I tell you I was framed," a small quiver was all he would allow his voice. "I have gone over my own case, more than once. A partial print and my previous rap sheet was all a jury needed to stick me in here."

"Say I believe you. I don't, but say I do. Why would somebody frame you? Why would that person wait ten years to kill again? Why would they start with the one woman who you were closest to?"

The convict closed his eyes and took a deep breath, to try and maintain his composure. "I have spent most of my time here to try and answer that first question. The rest of my time here will be spent thinking of answers to the other questions and most likely beyond that. For now, I have no answers for you. I am sorry Detective."

Detective Heat shook her head to show her disbelief. "According to her last letter, you are up for parole soon. Why after ten years would you still claim your innocence?"

"Just cause I may get out, doesn't mean I still don't want the real killer caught, just tell me what I can do to help," The convict smiled his slimy smile again.

Rook put his hand on the receiver, covering it so Grant couldn't hear it. "We should hear him out. I can't believe that a man who had a rap sheet as bad as you described it would claim his innocence for so long," he whispered to Detective Heat. He removed his hand from the receiver and spoke directly to Grant. "Has anyone come to see you in the past few weeks, someone claiming to be a journalist or a novelist?"

After a long dramatic pause, where Heat and Rook both held their breath in anticipation of his response. The inmate smiled and said,

"Funny you would ask, since I had a man visit me around a week ago. It was last Monday if memory serves me correctly. He told me he worked for _The Post_, doing an article on serial killers who claim they're innocent. He asked me about all of the details from the case that I would share with him, and I told him what I could remember. I asked to see his credentials when I sat in this very room with him and they seemed legit at the time, but now that I realize that he had to be the one who killed my Gillian."

Nikki Heat ripped the phone from Rook's hand, "Can you describe him?" She questioned strongly.

"Why yes Detective, I can. Where should I begin?"

* * *

**Author's Note: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. As you can see, I had trouble stopping it. Anyway, I hope to hear what you all think. ****Oh how I wish I got more reviews, is it really too much to ask for? :-)**


	9. Carcicature Sketch

**Disclaimer- I don't own Castle or have any rights to any publications. **

**A/N: I also want to thank Morethanamuse for her superb beta skills and putting up with my poor grammar. lol **

* * *

Caricature Sketch

A pile of manila folders was waiting for Roach when they returned to the precinct the next morning. The most pressing ones included a copy of the forensic report of the Gillian Baker crime scene, as well as the autopsy report of Kaylee Jacobson. The autopsy had been given a bump up in line when Captain Montrose called the commissioner and had explained the situation to him.

Ochoa turned his attention to the next file, which contained the images that had been pulled off of Gillian Baker's cell phone. Someone had deleted all of the pictures from it in order to try and destroy any damaging photos on it. Little did they know, it only took a little bit of time for their techs to find and process the deleted images on the micro SD card.

The detective scanned through each photo until he nearly reached the end. A picture of an angered man sitting in his car, reminded him of something that Heat had said. David Ransford, the science teacher that she had interrogated, told her that Gillian was being followed by man from one of the labs that she had broken into. _That must be who this man was_, he thought to himself. He set down that photo, hoping to see more evidence that would tie them to the man in the photograph. Sure enough the next photo was a poorly shot picture of his rear license plate, as the car was speeding away.

"Raley. I need you to run down this license plate for me, see who it belongs to."

The Irish cop didn't seem to hear him as he had his hand wrapped around a picture. Ochoa knew it had to be the image of his deceased girlfriend.

"Rales!" Ochoa shouted, pulling his partner from the recesses of his mind.

"Sorry…what?"

"Run down this plate for me, see who it belongs to," he repeated.

"On it." Raley shook himself from his distraction, setting down the picture and booting up his computer.

Captain Montrose braved the roads to the precinct, early that morning. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. Several thoughts kept him from sleeping. Between the multiple cases Heat's team was working and how it had become personal with the murder of Raley's girlfriend, how could he rest? The women that had been murdered ten years before were invading his mind, much as they had done all those years ago before the case was finished.

He ordered the files from the old Travis Grant case be brought to him. Even though his day was already booked, he wanted to make time to look through it. Going down memory lane was not a pleasant thought, but it was a necessity to bring this case to a close once and for all.

He remembered back to his own Captain, pushing him just like he was pushing Heat to close the case. If he had been a better detective, he would have checked every possible lead and every possible outcome, and maybe saved his detectives some pain and suffering. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if his Captain made him overlook something crucial, just to close the case. The fact that he was even second guessing himself like he was made him want to spit.

The Captain watched Heat's detective team going through a mass of paperwork. He prepared himself to have a chat with Roach before they saddled up. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a flask took a short swig before exiting his office. He approached his best detective team.

"Ochoa, Raley, can I talk to you for a moment?" His tone was gruff, as it was more of an order than a question.

"What is it Captain?" Raley asked.

"I wanted to check up and see if you had any new developments in the case."

"We had a photo of a man who seemed to be following Ms. Baker, she took a photo of him with her phone." Ochoa explained and held up a piece of paper that contained a blowup of an older man in a car, his face clearly visible, he looked enraged about being photo'd.

"We know who he is yet?"

"Name's Dr. Charles Nelson," Raley exclaimed, turning from his computer. "He works at Columbia University and is the head researcher that uses animals as test subjects."

His partner turned to him and questioned, "Any of them cats?"

"Probably," he answered his partner.

"Columbia University had some bad luck with the USDA a few years back. You think they're up to their old tricks?" Captain Montrose asked.

"Maybe, we'll check to see exactly why Dr. Nelson would be following our good teacher around. We will try his home first, and see if we can shake the truth from him," Raley continued.

"While you work on that, I will be going through my old Travis Grant case. I'll call if find anything worth sharing," Montrose said with a nod.

The two detectives turned back to their desks, before they could get very far, they were stopped again by their Captain.

"One last thing that you guys aren't going to like. I am also placing you with two backup uniforms from the thirteenth precinct. Irving, Johnson, come on over here." Two uniforms stood from desks near Montrose office and headed their direction. One was a tall older looking man, and the other was an average, thirty-something year old man. "They are going to be your shadows until this case is over or at least until my say so. Having two extra sets of eyes can't hurt. I can't afford to lose either one of you." Leaving no room for argument, the captain left Roach with their new uniformed shadows.

"Let's go," Ochoa said, grabbing his coat.

They exited the precinct via the elevator, along with their uniformed protectors.

The prison had no trained sketch artist and Nikki didn't wish to wait for someone from Buffalo to come in and do the sketch, so did her very best to sketch the description of the suspect. Travis Grant began to describe him. "He was older, maybe in his late fifties. His dress was one of a typical well-to –do journalist."

Rook didn't seem to appreciate his attire being compared to the supposed killer.

"The phony reporter had a long face, his nose was flat, his cheeks were high and tight on his face, and his hair was mostly grey. Grant also described him as having a raspy voice, like he had spent his life smoking a pack a day.

She flipped the sketch first to Rook, who almost chocked on a laugh, then to Grant, who made a rather smartass comment for a man behind bars.

"You must enjoy animated films, detective," the convict described the 'caricature' in front of him.

"Is this the guy or isn't it?" Heat tried to hide her embarrassment with her tough tone.

"I apologize, Detective. Yes, that is the man that came to see me last week."

The detective once again turned her cartoonish sketch toward her and stared at the man for a moment, a look on her face made Rook comment.

"You know this guy, Nik?"

"I…yes…I think I do, "Heat came to a realization. "It's the man from the first crime scene, the one that found Gillian Baker. I remember him reminding me of those private eyes from those old film noir movies from the fifties."

"The guy you told me hurled at the crime scene?"

"I had a bad feeling about him and you would have to if you met him. I thought he was too calm around his first dead body. The claim that the cigarettes he smoked helped with his nerves was a poor excuse and I should have seen right through it."

"Anyone could have missed it, Nik. I mean come on, when does a convenience store clerk ever kill anyone, it's usually the other way around," Rook tried his best to reassure her, but she was already gone when he spoke.

He looked around the room, hoping to spot her and ask her about her disappearing act. He didn't have to look far. She was talking to the guard nearest the door to the room.

"I need to talk to your warden. Now!"

The sentry looked at her for a moment, an annoyed look on his face. Nikki could read it easily, it said, _you aren't the boss of me._

"I am running an active homicide investigation, and I need to talk to your warden and I need to talk to my precinct to let them know we found a suspect," Nikki said in a less demanding tone, but her facial expression was clear: she didn't enjoy explaining herself to him.

The guard took hold of his shoulder radio and began to speak into it. "Get Warden Duran. I have an officer here that would like to have a word with him, concerning an active homicide."

Nikki turned back to Rook and noticed him smiling at her. She smiled back, knowing they were finally on the right track.


	10. John Irving

**Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or any connected material**

**John Irving**

Once in the Roach Coach, the two partners made their way across town toward the home of Dr. Charles Nelson. Due to the high snow volume, the side streets were a no go. Plows had to push the hastily fallen snow somewhere. A snow emergency was in effect for the entire state of New York as well as the rest of New England. It had come down from the mayor's office the night before that side streets were going to be off limits to everyone driving so to keep the main roads as clear as possible.

A squad car hung back four car lengths from them. The two uniforms seemed afraid to get closer and that would crash into the Roach Coach on these slick streets. Raley and Ochoa agreed to call their collective tails 'John Irving.' It seemed fitting for the duo following the duo to have a nickname too.

Raley was given the honor of driving by his partner, knowing that even a simple thing like keeping his eyes on the road would be enough to keep his haunting thoughts at bay. Each intersection was a gamble, there was no telling if a vehicle would come sliding through due to the heavy amount of ice that was now buried under the layer of snow.

Once they reached the address of their new suspect, they slowly pulled to the side of the building. They exited the car, just as John Irving passed them. They too were looking for a spot to pull over. They decided not to wait, and headed up to the doctor's apartment.

Once inside they shook off the flakes that had accumulated on them during the short journey from their car to the building. They had to hoof it up the stairs, seeing no elevator to ease their ascent to the seventh floor. They had a climb before them.

Raley knocked.

"Dr. Nelson, NYPD, open up," Ochoa shouted through the door.

Silence.

Detective Raley knocked louder. "NYPD! Charles Nelson!"

They both leaned in as close as they dared. A very odd sound coming from the other side of the door prompted an exchange of curious looks. It was a slow squeak, almost like an old window being forced open. The detectives drew their service pistols. Ochoa took an aggressive stance in front of the door, as Raley leaned to the side of the entrance. Ochoa kicked the door open. It swung wide on its hinges. If anyone was inside, they were now clearly aware of their presence.

Roach entered quickly. The interior of the apartment was in shambles. It was clear that someone had tossed the place. The partners held their guns at the ready, moving quickly to separate areas of the room.

"Charles Nelson! NYPD! Show yourself!" Raley took the path to the bedroom and surveyed the contents of the bathroom along the way. Once he cleared each room, as well as checked all corners he yelled, "Clear!"

Ochoa took the path to the kitchen, checking both under the table and inside the pantry, "Clear!"

The detectives holstered their service pieces and surveyed the area fully.

"Our doctor doesn't appear to be home," Ochoa commented as he reentered the living room.

"I'd say. What a pig sty. What do you suppose happened?" Raley asked emerging from the bedroom.

"You would think someone with a Doctorate would have a nicer place."

"I would venture a guess, that his run in's with PETA have him hurting a bit."

"Too true," said the younger detective.

Detective Ochoa reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of crime scene gloves. He knelt down to pick up a piece of paper that caught his eye. "This may have something to do with it." He held the paper up to his partner, so he could read it.

"It's a work schedule for Gillian Baker? So it would seem that the man had been following Ms. Baker after all." He took a glove from his jacket pocket and took the paper from his partner.

Ochoa continued to sift through the pile of paperwork. He brushed away a stack of papers and spoke. "Stalking would be more accurate a term." A collage of snapshots devoted to Gillian Baker appeared on floor below him on a poster board. "It doesn't look like she gave him permission to take these photos." He pointed to the picture of a long shot of her from her bedroom window, she was half dressed.

"Great. A perv. This case just gets better and better."

A sound from the kitchen window made them reach for their Glocks. Snow fell from the roof and landed on the window and fire escape. A loud squeak from the fire escape made a sound similar to the one that they had heard earlier.

A different noise from the entryway of the apartment made the two detectives turn toward it with their guns drawn.

John Irving stood in the doorway, their guns cocked and at the ready. Roach breathed simultaneous sighs of relief when they recognized the officers and lowered their guns. Unfortunately for them, the cops from the 13th precinct didn't mimic Roach's actions.

Johnson and Irving both fired their pistols toward the detectives. Ochoa pushed his partner down to the hard floor and behind the living room couch for some cover. They both heard the first bullet strike and shatter the window behind them and a howl of cold air emanated from it. Not a millisecond had gone by, when the second bullet hit a much softer target.

The second bullet hit Ochoa and he felt the blood start to steam down.

He fell hard on the wood floor below, staining part of it crimson.

"Och…!" Raley's shouted desperately. But he was barely heard because his voice was muffled by additional gunfire. The thought finally graced the detectives mind, _Johnson and Irving were dirty_.


	11. Visit with the Warden

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle or any related material. The ownership belongs to the creators and producers of the show.**

**Chapter 11: Visit with the Warden**

Shortly after her conversation with Grant, Heat and Rook were shown to the Warden's office by the guard she had shown a bit of annoyance towards. He told them the Warden would be in shortly and that they were to remain in the office- _like a couple of prisoners,_ Nikki thought-until then. She asked the guard that had escorted them before he left for permission to use the warden's phone to call her precinct with the updated information that she had gathered.

"Do what you want," the guard expressed gruffly before slamming the door behind him.

"I see you made a friend, Detective," Rook teased.

Heat didn't reply to the journalist, she spotted the phone and began to dial the precinct, taking a second to remember the area code.

"This is Detective Heat. Can I have you connect me to Captain Montrose please?"

She waited a moment, listening to the repeating beeps as she was transferred.

"Morning Captain. I have some forward momentum on this case. A man came to visit Grant about a week ago. The man claimed to be a journalist; he even had to proper credentials. And here's the kicker: He was the same guy that found Gillian Baker's body. The store clerk, yeah." She paused and nodded, even though Montrose couldn't see her. "There is no way to tell who he really is, but he just may be her killer, but we have nothing solid on him. I'll get a hold of Roach and tell them to go back to the convenience store. We might get lucky and the man may still be around." Heat doubted it, but it was best to check.

"Grant's not our man? Is that what you're telling me Detective?"

"I can't shake a creepy feeling he gives me, but I don't see how he could have killed Gillian Baker. Unless he's been taking acting classes here, it really seemed like he was truly surprised she was murdered."

"I remember that feeling. Get back here as soon as you can," Her captain ordered.

"Rook and I are in the Warden's office as we speak were waiting to talk to him in order to verify the man's identity on video and see exactly what he talked to Grant about."

"Do that and then ask him if you can bring Grant back with you, at my request. If that's not good enough, I'll have a chat with the commissioner and see if he will sign off on it. Or we can just have Rook call the Mayor and do him another favor," the Captain chuckled.

"I'll talk to the warden and see what I can do," Heat said dryly, not seeing the humor in his statement.

"Sounds like a plan. I will read up on the old Grant case file and see what I can shake out that I didn't see before."

Heat held down the button to temporarily cut the phones power and redialed, calling Ochoa's cell. As she dialed, she noticed Rook doing 'Rook-like' things. He was making his way around the room and had just finished admiring the mounted TV that the Warden had hanging on his desk. He turned around to view his impressive trophy collection.

There was no answer on Ochoa's line. She put her finger down on the button to the desk phone again but before she could try Raley, Rook said something to her.

"Hey check it out, he bowled a perfect game," Rook said as picked up a trophy that had the number three hundred written across it.

"Put that down!" Heat hissed at him, slamming the phone down on the desk.

Rook put it down just as the office door opened and man who Nikki guessed was Warden Duran entered. He had a full beard, but it was kept up neatly.

"I'm Warden Paul Duran. What can I do for you folks?" He shot straight for the chair behind his desk.

"I'm Detective Nikki Heat and this is Jameson Rook. I want to know about the man that came to see Travis Grant last week."

"Straight to business I see. Please have a seat. Grant you said?"

Heat and Rook nodded simultaneously as they sat across from the Warden.

"What day was it?"

"Grant said it was last Monday," Rook explained.

"Okay. Wait just a moment."

Duran picked up the desk phone that Heat had just used. He dialed a short four digit number. His fingers ran through his beard as he waited. Someone at the other end answered quickly.

"What numbered stall in the visitor's center was Grant seated on last Monday?" Duran asked the person on the other end. He booted up his small computer and pulled a remote from one of his desk drawers. With a click of the remote the power clicked on and what Duran saw from his computer, the partners saw on the TV behind him.

"That's so cool!" Rook exclaimed.

Duran chuckled at the journalist's amusement.

Heat rolled her eyes and sighed in embarrassment.

"Thirteen? Lucky. Thanks." Duran hung up the receiver and accessed the video surveillance screens.

Heat pulled out the sketch she drew of the man that Grant described. She wanted to get a positive ID on to him. Though it wasn't like she could forget that raspy voice, but it was her job to verify that this was '_The Noir man'_ that she believed it was.

The video fast forwarded through the day, focused on the thirteenth booth. After a couple minutes, a man matching 'The Noir Man's' description took a seat across from Grant. He did seem to dress in the same attire that Rook was wearing, a pressed dress shirt and slacks. He held up a document to Grant, pressing it against the glass with his palm.

"Do we have audio?" Heat asked.

"One minute," the Warden replied.

An audio track began to sync up with the video that was playing on the TV in front of them. "…and can you tell me how you went about killing these women, precisely?" The raspy voiced man sitting across from Grant asked.

"I keep telling you I didn't kill those women, but I am familiar with the case. You want to know the details then I will tell you. I do want you to emphasize in your story that I did not harm those women, okay? I was suspected of injecting them in the necks with a drug cocktail and leaving them in public areas wearing pure white sundresses. Anything else you want to know?"

The raspy voiced man finished jotting down what Grant had just said. "You continue to claim your innocence all this time, but why? Do you suspect someone to finally listen after all of these years?"

"Of course, is that not the reason you are here? You are going to get my story out and show the world how I have behaved inside this prison and continue to plead for a retrial. Maybe after your article I can get that retrial after the right lawyer hears my story."

"Thank you Mr. Grant. I believe I have enough dialogue from you. I do hope that you get your trial, you seem like an upstanding member of society to me." The pseudo-journalist held the phone away from his ear ready to hang it up and began to stand.

"Wait, can you also write that I have somebody that I love out there in the real world?"

"Can I get a name?"

Grant hesitated for a moment, "Gillian…Gillian Baker."

"Thanks again Mr. Grant." The man hung up the phone and stood up.

He looked right at the camera for a second and Heat got her positive ID it was in fact the man she had met the night of Gillian Baker's murder. "Got you, you son of a bitch."

"Excuse me?" Duran asked, puzzled.

"I know the man that went to see him; he was the one who supposedly found the body of Gillian Baker. Now we have evidence that not only did he know exactly who she was, but how to kill her and have Travis Grant investigated."

"But he would know that we would see this tape eventually and be on to him," Rook said.

"He probably thought that he would be long gone before we would be on to him."

"Good point." Rook began to stare into space, thinking of what to do next.

"Is there anything that I can do?" Warden Duran asked.

"It's funny you should ask."


	12. Raley's Pain

Raley's Pain

The shots continued to sound off around Raley, and they intensified every time he went to take a peek. A few bullets tore through the stuffing on the couch, just inches from where his head had been. He was too unaware of his surroundings to be any real match to the dirty cops that were firing on him for a yet-to-be-determined reason.

"Ochoa," Raley whispered to his partner when he heard a grunt from behind the recliner where he had last seen him disappear that was situated adjacent to the couch.

A few moments of silence were broken by Ochoa's ghost like voice "Yeah."

"You okay?"

"They got me in the arm. It's bleeding pretty badly." Ochoa choked out, blood still pooling at a decent rate on the hardwood.

"You think you can help me out here?"

"Got something specific in mind?"

"Are you going to be able to draw their fire?"

Ochoa pulled himself to his haunches with his good arm, his Glock still in hand. "Got it," he replied.

Johnson and Irving had taken the same strategic shooting positions that they had just used on the opposite side of the door. Their focus was only the couch, as neither looked around the room to see if Ochoa had survived the first volley of shots.

The Cuban detective pulled himself to his knees and held himself against the back of the recliner. He could see Johnson's outline as he peered inside the apartment. He would have to work quickly so not to be spotted by either of the dirty cops as he prepared for his shot. The Glock started feeling heavy the moment he raised her to shoulder height, he was getting light headed. He saw skin and…his phone rang.

"Dammit! Of all the worst possible times for me to get a call." Ochoa took the shot, as his position was already given away by the annoying blaring of 'Bad Romance' by Lady Gaga. He ducked behind cover before a few shots began heading his direction. He heard a howl and something heavy hit the ground outside the apartment. He got one.

Another shot came from close by.

Detective Raley had taken the distraction and used it to take down the other man. He glanced from his cover again to make sure both men were down. He could see two silhouettes on the floor near the doorway and took that as a good sign.

One was moving, writing in pain from the wound he had been dealt. The other lay still, it was possible that he was dead. The young detective held his gun at the ready and neared the bloody scene he and his partner had created. He reached Johnson first, he was still alive. Johnson reached for his piece that had fallen just out of his reach. Raley kicked it back toward his partner. The 13th precinct cop was hit in the abdomen and had toppled over, incapacitated from the pain. He was lucky, a few inches to the left and he would have been a goner.

Officer Irving was less lucky, Detective Ochoa had hit him in the temple. He was dead before he hit the floor. Raley kicked the gun away from the body, just to be on the safe side.

"Ochoa!" Raley shouted back to his partner. "Can you stand?"

"Probably not a good idea, I feel dizzy enough just leaning here."

Raley approached his partner, seeing him for the first time since he had been shot. The arm of his jacket was drenched crimson. Raley went to the kitchen and looked for a cloth to clot the wound. He returned in a rush and had his partner remove his jacket to expose the wound.

Ochoa gave a slight cringe of pain, trying to remain strong despite the pain that he was in.

Raley examined his partners arm, the bullet had gone right through, probably tore through a few necessary muscles. He would have to endure weeks of rehabilitation in order to get full use of his arm. "So, Lady Gaga huh?"

Ochoa began to stumble over his words, "I…uh…Lauren was messing with my phone a few days ago, didn't have a chance to change it."

"Right…" Raley replied simply.

"Let's just get this over with." Ochoa requested to his partner.

The Irish detective wrapped the cloth lightly at first. He tightened it, allowing his partner to ease into the pain. Ochoa let out a loud grunt when Raley tied the cloth tight.

"Sorry. I'll call you and Johnson an ambulance. Just hang out for a minute."

Ochoa did not respond.

Raley dug though his pocket to pull out his phone. He checked on Ochoa, who had passed out from the pain that he had endured. Detective Raley made the call to dispatch to notify them of two downed officers and gave his location. While he waited for them to arrive, he decided to get the answers that he was seeking as to why Kaylee was murdered. Johnson was just the man for it.

"I have a few questions while we were waiting for help to arrive." Raley put his foot down, atop Johnson's wounded abdomen.

The dirty cop cringed in pain.

"First and foremost, what happened to the Doc who owns this apartment?"

"I ain't…" Johnson started reluctantly, but knew that he would was caught and things would go better for him if he cooperated. There other things about being a cop other than having a badge and having authority over others. He had enough experience that told him it was no use resisting. He'd seen that happen to criminals who attempted to, and ended up making it worse. "He's dead…Me and Irving took care of that. Don't expect to find him anywhere around here."

"Why did you kill him? Did he have something to do with all this?"

"In a manner of speaking…he was our pawn in all this. He was to throw the Baker woman off our trail. Make sure that she never saw us coming."

Raley could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background. It was only a matter of time before his time was cut short and he would have to wait to question the traitor.

"Why did you kill Kaylee Jacobson? What did she have to do with all this?" Raley pressed even harder on Johnson's wound.

"She had as much to do with this as you and your partner do." Johnson grunted from the additional pain. "We were told to stage her death like the Grant murders from ten years ago. Had no idea that someone would be returning to that MO the night before and that Baker was the same target."

"Is there anymore targets that you were told to get rid of?"

"That bitch you work for and her sidekick. Oh and your partners girlfriend."

Raley took a moment to process and digest this answer. It was a loaded one. In a flash, he regained his composure, not wanting to appear week before this jack-hole of a cop. "You have anybody else working with you?"

"Couple of guys that I know of, nobody I saw personally, just the guy giving the orders by phone and some other guy that I guess was a former cop. Never met either of them, just had a call to my mobile one day and asked if we would be interested in a bit of extra off the book assignments that would pay well.

"Whoever you're working for, why is he doing this?"

"Never asked because we didn't care. Money was too good. Paid up front and were sent pictures of all of you."

Detective Raley heard the sirens continue to come closer; they were only a block away now.

"So our little team up this morning, I'm guessing that was far from a coincidence?"

"I guess the guy that used to be a cop pulled in a few favors and put the assignment in our laps. Other than that, I would ask your captain about his choices in guardians."

"You know what Johnson? You have been more than helpful. If you hadn't turned into a murder I think that you and I could have been friends." He glared at him, shaking his head slightly. The sirens had stopped, the medics had arrived. Raley pulled out his service pistol and pointed it at Johnson.

"The hell man!" Johnson panicked.

Raley didn't say anything. He took his foot off of Johnson and holstered his firearm again. "It's funny, if I was like you, you would be dead by now. I guess that I'm the better man. Be seeing you, Jackass."

With that, Raley glanced over and made sure his partner was still doing alright, despite his unconscious state. He exited the apartment and went outside to greet the emergency crew, barking at them to hurry up, his concern for Ochoa clearly coming through.

As they hurried back up the stairs, he thought, _Things may not be perfect, but it was going to be okay for now._


	13. Betrayal of the Code

Betrayal of the Code

Captain Montrose sent Detective Raley home after he explained what happened at the doctor's place. He couldn't contain his surprise when Raley told him that the doctor was presumably dead and supposedly just a patsy and that the tails that he provided them were not-so-honorable. The Captain had shaken his head in disappointment; they were from his old precinct after all.

The Captain expected Raley to be angry with him because he got sent home, but he seemed at ease with the whole situation. Montrose just shrugged it off, thinking maybe the stress of the situation hadn't hit him yet.

Detective Ochoa along with Officer Johnson were both going to be okay. Ochoa would probably have to deal with a few weeks of physical therapy, but all in all, he would be back to work in no time at all. Johnson wasn't as lucky. He had several broken bones to go with his gunshot wounds, and as soon as possible he would be moved to a prison hospital to await trail.

Montrose's desk phone rang: the Caller-ID indicated that it was Detective Heat.

"What is it Detective?"

"I'm faxing you over a couple of pictures that the security camera took of Grant and the shop owner. They should be arriving at your desk in a minute or two. By the way, we were able to bring Grant with us, with one addendum to the plan: a prison guard is to accompany him to the precinct."

"That's fine, you on your way?"

"Not quite, we're headed to the car now. Thanks for the tail by the way."

Captain Montrose could hear the agitation in her voice. "Be glad you got who you did. Raley and Ochoa's turned out to be on the wrong side of the investigation."

Detective Heat froze for a moment, wondering what could have happened. "They okay?"

"Raley came out unscathed, but Ochoa was shot in the arm. He will be back to normal in a few weeks."

"Glad to hear it sir," the relief was easily covered the concern in her voice, but the Captain could still hear her distress. "By the way sir, we have any luck with the shop owner?"

"The team I sent didn't find him there, but someone left in a hurry, I am having a CSU team sweep the shop."

"Okay, let me know if you find out anything useful."

"Will do, see you in a few hours Detective."

Just as he hung up his phone, a fax printed off his printer. He pulled it out and found himself face to face with the image of Travis Grant yet again. Grant was sitting in what appeared to be the prisoner side of the visitor's area, conversing with someone on the other side of the glass. The visitors face was obscured by the glare from the lights across the room.

At the bottom of photo was a time stamp, it showed that this was a video still and not a photo. It was dated last Monday. Beside that Montrose noticed handwriting that he recognized as Detective Heat's. It read, _Visitor picture on the way. _

Just as soon has Montrose had finished reading; a new fax began to print itself off. The Captain pulled this new sheet off the printer and began to examine it. A shocking revelation struck him, he knew the man who had visited Grant.

He was a cop, or at least he used to be. His name was Ford Bunn and he was the former Captain of the 13th precinct. He remembered him from back when he was still a rookie detective. Bunn had retired just before the murder's that Grant was supposedly guilty of committing.

It was hard for Montrose to see Bunn as a 'dirty' cop, but it didn't look good, with him talking to Grant just a week before the murders occurred. He hoped that there was another explanation for what was going on but could think of none at the moment. _How long had Bunn been up to this kind of stuff anyway?_

Montrose hung his head and chuckled sadly to himself. A rookie would fall for what he was thinking, not a seasoned captain. He was just wondering a day ago if one of his own could have been a killer. The truth was that nobody was completely innocent, despite how honest and true that they may seem to be.

His former Captain was too smart to do something like stay put after committing a crime. There was somewhere that Bunn could possibly be he remembered from his time at the 13th. His knowledge could be useful, and he knew that he had to move now. Unfortunately he was out of officers that he could trust at the moment. He picked up his desk phone and began to dial.

"Raley, I know I just gave you the day off, but I need some backup and you're the only cop I feel I can trust in the city at the moment that's not injured," the captain's voice was shallow and breathy.

"Where," the detective replied immediately and without question.

"It's up north. I'll pick you up. Just make sure you're armed and ready when I swing by."

"Understood, Sir." With that, Raley hung up.

Montrose hung up as well and grabbed his jacket. He headed for the elevator, ready to settle a now personal score.


End file.
